T.  B.  PETERSON  &  BROTHERS; 

No.  306  Chestnut  Street,  Philadelphia, 

Are  now  issuing  an  entire  new,  complete,  and  uniform  edi- 
tion of  all  the  celebrated  Novels,  (which  have  been  out  of  print 
for  years,)  written  by  the  late 

MRS.  CAROLINE   LEE   HENTZ. 

The  whole  of  the  novels  and  stories  of  Mrs.  CAROLINE  LEE 
HENTZ  will  be  issned  complete  in  twelve  large  duodecimo  vol- 
umes. Two  volumes  will  be  issued  each  month,  until  the  se- 
ries is  complete,  one  volume  on  the  first,  and  another  on  the  fifteenth 
of  the  month.  They  will  be  printed  on  the  finest  paper,  and  bound 
in  the  most  beautiful  style,  in  fine  Morocco  cloth,  with  a  new  full 
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of  $1.75  each,  in  Morocco  cloth  ;  or  in  paper  cover,  at  $1.50  each. 

The  Novels  of  Mrs.  CAROLINE  LEE  HENTZ  will  be  found,  on  pe- 
rusal by  all,  to  be  the  most  exciting  and  popular  works  that 
have  ever  emanated  from  the  American  press.  They  are  written 
in  a  charming  style,  and  will  elicit  through  all  a  thrill  of  deep 
and  exquisite  pleasure.  They  are  works  which  the  oldest  and 
the  youngest  may  alike  read  with  pleasure  and  profit.  They 
abound  with  the  most  beautiful  scenic  descriptions,  and  display 
an  intimate  acquaintance  with  all  phases  of  human  character — 
all  the  characters  being  exceedingly  well  drawn.  They  are  de- 
lightful books,  full  of  incident,  oftentimes  bold  and  startling, 
and  they  describe  the  warm  feelings  of  the  Southerner  in  glow- 
ing colors.  Indeed,  all  of  Mrs.  Hentz's  stories  aptly  describe 
Southern  life,  and  are  highly  moral  in  their  application.  In 
this  field  Mrs.  Hentz  wields  a  keen  sickle,  and  harvests  a  rich 
and  abundant  crop.  They  will  be  found,  in  plot,  incident,  and 
management,  to  be  superior  to  any  other  novels  ever  issued. 
In  the  whole  range  of  elegant  moral  fiction,  there  cannot  be 
found  anything  of  more  inestimable  value,  or  superior  to  the 
charming  works  of  Mrs.  Caroline  Lee  Hentz,  and  they  are  all 
gems  that  will  well  repay  a  careful  perusal.  The  Publishers 
feel  assured  that  this  series  of  Novels,  by  Mrs.  Caroline  Lee 
Hentz,  will  give  entire  satisfaction  to  the  whole  reading  com- 
munity ;  that  they  will  encourage  good  taste  and  good  morals, 
and  while  away  many  leisure  hours  with  great  pleasure  and 

(U 


2          WRITINGS   OF   MRS.  CAROLINE   LEE  HENTZ. 

profit,  and  that  they  will  also  be  recommended  to  others  by 
all  that  perase  them. 

The  first  volume  was  issued  on  November  1st,  1869,  and  was 
LINDA;  OB,  THE  YOUNG  PILOT  OF  THE  BELLE  CREOLE. 

The  first  volume,  "Linda,"  contains  a  full  and  complete 
Biography  of  the  late  Mrs.  CAROLINE  LBE  HENTZ,  which  has  never 
before  been  published. 

The  second  volume  was  issued  on  November  15th,  1869,  and  was 
ROBERT    GRAHAM.    A  Sequel   to   "Linda;   or,  The  Young  Pilot 
of  the  Belle  Creole." 

The  third  volume  was  issued  on  December  1st,  1869,  and  was 
RENA;  or,  THE  SNOW  BIRD.  A  Tale  of  Real  Life. 

The  fourth  volume  was  issued  tm  December  15th,  1869,  and  was 
MARCUS  WARLAND  ;  or,  The  Long.  Moss  Spring. 

These  will  be  followed,  one  on  the  first,  and  one  on  the  fifteenth  of 
each  month,  in  the  following  order,  by 

EOLINE;  or,  MAGNOLIA  VALE;  or,  The  Heiress  of   Glenmore. 
ERNEST  LINWOOD ;  or,  The  Inner  Life  of  the  Author. 
THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE;  or,  Scenes  in  Mrs.  Hentz's 

Childhood. 

HELEN  AND  ARTHUR;  or,  Miss  Thusa's  Spinning- Wheel. 
COURTSHIP   AND   MARRIAGE;    or,   The  Joys    and   Sorrows  of 

American  Life. 

LOVE  AFTER  MARRIAGE ;  and  other  Stories  of  the  Heart. 
THE  LOST  DAUGHTER ;  and  other  Stories  of  the  Heart. 
THE  BANISHED  SON ;  and  other  Stories  of  the  Heart. 

This  series  will  no  doubt  prove  to  be  the  most  popular  series 
of  Novels  ever  issued  in  this  country,  as  they  are  written  by 
one  of  the  most  popular  Female  Novelists  that  ever  lived. 

Address  all  orders,  at  once,  to  receive  immediate  attention, 
for  all  or  any  of  the  above  books,  to 

T.  B.  PETERSON  &  BROTHERS, 

Publishers,  No.  306  Chestnut  Street,  Philadelphia,  Pa, 
$y  Above  Books  are  for  sale  by  all  Booksellers,  or  copies  of  any  or 
all  of  tl»m  will  be  sent  post-paid  to  any  one,  to  any  place,  on  receipt  of 
their  price  by  the  publishers. 


E  E  N  A; 


OB, 


THE    SNOW    BIRD. 


BY 


MRS.  CAROLINE  LEE  HENTZ. 

AUTHOR  OF  "  LINDA  ;  OR,  THE  YOUNG  PHOT  OP  THE  BELLE  CREOLE,"  "THE  BANISHED  SON," 

"  COURTSHIP  AND  MARRIAGE  ;     OR,    THB    JOTS  AND   SORROWS   OP    AMERICAN  LIFE," 

*  THE   PLANTER'S    NORTHERN   BRIDE  J   OR,  SCENES  IN  MRS.  HENTZ'S  CHILDHOOD," 

"  MARCUS  WARLAND  ;  OR,  THE  LONG  MOSS  SPRING,"  "  THE  LOST  DAUGHTER," 

"  ERNEST     LINWOOD  ;     OR,    THE     INNER     LIFE      OP    THE     AUTHOR," 

"HELEN  AND  ARTHUR;    OR,  MISS    THUSA'S    SPINNING-WHEEL," 

"  IOLINE  ;  OR,  MAGNOLIA  VALE,"  "  LOVE  AFTER  MARRIAGE," 

"  ROBERT  GRAHAM  ;"  A  SEQUEL    TO    "  LINDA,"  ETC. 


"  I  saw  her  once — so  freshly  fair, 

That,  like  a  blossom  just  unfolding, 
She  opened  to  life's  cloudless  air ; 

And  nature  joyed  to  view  its  moulding. 
Oh !  who  could  look  on  such  a  form, 

So  heavenly  fair,  BO  softly  tender, 
And  darkly  dream,  that  earthly  sin 

Should  dim  such  sweet,  delicious  splendour." 


PHILADELPHIA: 
T.    B.    PETERSON    &    BROTHERS; 

306    CHESTNUT     STREET. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congrew,  In  the  year  1809,  by 
T.  B.  PETERSON  &  BROTHERS, 

In  the  Clerk'i  Office  of  the  DUtriet  Court  of  the  United  States,  In  and  for  the 

Eastern  District  of  Pennsylvania. 


MRS.  CAROLINE   LEE    HENTZ'S   WORKS. 

Each  Work  is  complete  in  one  large  duodecimo  volume. 

LINDA;     OB,    THE    YOUNG    PILOT    OF    THE    BELLE 
CREOLE. 

ROBERT  GRAHAM.     A  SEQUEL  TO  "LINDA." 

SENA;  OR,  THE  SNOW  BIRD.    A  TALE  OF  REAL  LIFE. 

EOLINE;  OR,  MAGNOLIA  VALE;   OR,  THE  HEIRESS  OF 
GLENMORE. 

MARCUS  WARLAND;  OR,  THE  LONG  MOSS  SPRING. 

ERNEST  LINWOOD;    OR,    THE   INNER    LIFE    OF   THE 
AUTHOR. 

THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE;    OR,  SCENES  IN 
MRS.  HENTZ'S  CHILDHOOD. 

HELEN  AND  ARTHUR;    OR,  MISS   THUSA'S  SPINNING- 
WHEEL. 

COURTSHIP   AND    MARRIAGE;    OR,    THE    JOYS   AND 
SORRO  WS  OF  AMERICAN  LIFE. 

LOVE  AFTER  MARRIAGE. 
THE  LOST  DAUGHTER. 
THE  BANISHED  SON. 

Price  $1.75  each  in  Morocco  Cloth ;  or  $1.50  in  Paper  Cover. 


Above  books  are  for  sale  by  all  Booksellers.  Copies  of  any  or 
all  of  the  above  books  will  be  sent  to  any  one,  to  any  place, 
postage  pre-paid,  on  receipt  of  their  price  by  the  Publishers, 

T.  B.  PETERSON  &  BROTHERS, 

306  CHESTNUT  STREET,  PHILADELPHIA,  PA. 


EENA; 


OR, 


THE  SNOWBIKD. 


CHAPTER  I. 

"  Oh  I  how  canst  them  renounce  the  boundless  store 
Of  charms,  which  nature  to  its  votary  yields  ? 

The  warbKng  woodlark — the  resounding  shore — 
The  pomp  of  groves — the  garniture  of  fields, — 

All  that  the  genial  ray  of  morning  gilds, 
And  all  that  echoes  to  the  song  of  even — 

All  that  the  mountain's  sheltering  bosom  shields, 
And  all  the  dread  magnificence  of  Heaven, 
Oh !  how  c&nst  thou  renounce,  and  hope  to  be  forgiven  ?** 

BEATTH. 

"  You  don't  love  me,  mama,"  said  a  weary-looking  child, 
who  was  sitting  on  a  low  chair,  right  in  the  corner  of  the 
room,  to  a  pale,  sickly  lady,  who  was  at  a  table  by  the  open 
window,  sewing.  The  soft  summer  air  was  blowing  softly, 
very  softly  upon  the  delicate  cheek  of  the  invalid,  tempering 
the  heat  of  a  sultry  August  day.  It  was  much  pleasanter  sit- 
ting there,  breathing  the  only  air  circulating  in  the  room,  than 


14  RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD. 

in  that  little  hot  corner,  where  the  child  was  ensconced,  between 
two  black-bottomed,  mahogany-backed  chairs. 

"You  don't  love  me,  mama,"  repeated  the  child,  in  the 
desperation  of  her  weariness,  stretching  her  arms  and  feet  as 
far  as  they  could  possibly  extend, — "  or  you  wouldn't  make 
me  sit  here  so  long.  I'm  so  tired !  I  ache  all  over  I  Please 
let  me  go." 

"  You  are  so  noisy,  Rena — so  disobedient.  I  told  you  half 
a  dozen  times  to  be  quiet,  and  not  romp  about  so  in  the  yard. 
I  have  no  other  way  to  keep  you  still,  but  by  confining  you  in 
the  house.  It  does  no  good  to  speak  to  you.  It  is  your  own 
fault." 

"  I  don't  mean  to  be  disobedient,  mama — I  forget.  I  can't 
think  to  remember,  I'm  so  happy  out  of  doors.  I  cannot  help 
singing  and  laughing.  I  won't  do  so  any  more." 

"  Then  you  get  so  brown  in  the  sun.  You  never  vsiU  wear 
a  bonnet.  You  make  a  complete  fright  of  yourself." 

"  The  little  calves  have  brown  skins,  mama :  and  they  are 
pretty." 

"  Do  hear  the  child  talk !"  said  the  mother.  She  could  not 
help  smiling.  Rena  caught  the  reflection  of  the  smile  on  her 
heart.  It  was  the  herald  of  release  from  captivity.  She  could 
not  wait  for  the  permission  for  which  she  had  been  pleading, 
but,  springing  up,  she  caught  her  mother  round  the  neck,  and 
gave  her  one,  two,  three,  half  a  dozen  kisses,  without  stopping 
to  take  breath. 

As  we  said  before,  it  was  a  very  warm  day,  and  she  had 
been  sitting  an  hour  in  a  very  warm,  close  corner,  and  thick 
drops  of  perspiration  were  standing  on  her  glowing  face. 
Every  one  knows  it  is  not  very  pleasant  to  have  a  moist, 
adhesive  child  (however  dear  that  child  may  be)  hanging  to 
the  neck,  when  the  thermometer  is  above  ninety  degrees,  and 
the  very  contact  of  the  lightest  garment  is  oppressive.  Poor 
Mrs.  Fay  was  an  invalid,  subject  to  sick  headaches  and  palpi- 


RENA;  on,  THE  SNOWBIRD.  15 

tations  of  the  heart,  and  many  other  nervous  pains,  which, 
though  they  did  not  confine  her  to  the  bed,  made  her  extremely 
sensitive  to  noise  and  annoyances  of  any  kind.  It  is  not  to  be 
wondered  then  that  instead  of  reciprocating  with  maternal  ten- 
derness the  smothering  caresses  of  Rena,  she  tried  to  liberate 
herself  as  speedily  as  possible  from  the  moist  little  arms  that 
squeezed  her  so  tightly. 

"  Oh !  mercy !"  she  cried,  panting  for  breath,  "  go  away, 
child.  You  suffocate  me  to  death !  Yes,  yes,  run  out  doors 
and  play,  if  you  will— only  don't  make  a  noise.  'Go  off  into 
the  fields,  where  I  can't  hear  you.  There — go — don't  tease 
me  any  more." 

One  more  rapturous  kiss,  and  Rena  bounded  through  the 
door. 

"  Stop,  child !  your  bonnet.  You  are  going  without  any- 
thing on  your  head  into  the  broiling  sun.  When  will  you 
learn  to  obey  ?  Haven't  I  told  you  a  thousand  times  never 
to  go  out  without  a  bonnet  ?" 

Mrs.  Fay  spoke  of  a  bonnet  from  habit ;  but  having  found 
it  impossible  to  keep  a  bonnet  on  Rena's  head  in  such  a  man- 
ner as  to  protect  her  face,  she  had  adopted  a  large,  broad- 
brimmed  straw-hat,  such  as  little  boys  wear,  in  its  stead.  She 
had  made  use  of  every  expedient  woman's  invention  could 
suggest,  to  fasten  the  bonnet  on  the  head  of  the  child,  so  as  to 
elude  her  efforts  to  throw  it  off.  She  had  tied  the  strings  in 
double  knots, — she  had  sewed  the  deep  pasteboard,  which  con- 
stituted the  framework  of  the  bonnet,  so  closely  together,  that 
her  little  round  face  seemed  lost  in  the  distance  and  obscurity  j 
but  Rena  had  a  way  of  emerging  from  its  depths  the  moment 
she  was  abroad,  that  was  quite  supernatural.  Without  break- 
ing the  knots  or  stitches,  she  would  have  her  face  thrust  out 
into  the  sunshine,  careless  of  the  fervid  rays  that  dyed  her 
rosy  cheeks  with  brown.  The  hat  she  was  willing  to  wear. 
It  did  not  fetter  the  elastic  movements  of  her  neck ;  it  did  not 


16  RENA;  OB,  THE  SNOWBIRD. 

shut  out  the  free,  blessed  air  of  heaven.  She  could  feel  the 
cool,  fluttering  wings  of  the  wind  fan  her  as  she  passed ;  her 
view  was  not  confined  to  one  little  vista  in  the  foreground. 
She  had  really  conceived  a  passion  for  her  broad-brimmed, 
boyish  straw-hat.  She  petted  and  adorned  it.  She  would 
make  wreaths  of  wild  flowers,  and  twist  them  round  the 
crown, — then,  taking  a  little  crooked  stick  in  her  hand,  sit 
down  on  the  grass  among  the  lambs,  and  imagine  herself  a 
shepherdess,  for  she  had  heard  her  father  read  aloud  about 
such  things,  and  her  bright  imagination  seized  upon  every- 
thing that  was  picturesque  and  beautiful,  to  weave  into  the 
web  of  her  young  thoughts.  She  was  a  child  of  impulse, 
enthusiasm,  sensibility, — full  of  bright,  original  ideas,  and 
when  she  was  free,  free  in  the  air,  free  as  the  birds,  the  lambs, 
or  any  out-of-door  living  thing,  she  was  the  happiest  of  the 
happy — the  wildest  of  the  wild.  When  all  alone,  she  would 
sometimes  burst  into  a  wild  fit  of  loud,  wild  laughter,  at  her 
own  bright,  joyous  fancies,  that  would  ring  like  a  bell  through 
the  whole  yard,  and  then  her  mother,  clapping  her  hands  to 
her  head,  would  exclaim — 

"  Oh !  that  child— that  child !  She  will  be  the  death  of 
me." 

And  "  that  child"  would  be  summoned  at  once  into  the 
house,  as  she  had  been  that  very  afternoon,  and  condemned, 
as  a  penalty,  to  sit  in  the  corner,  without  moving  hand  or 
foot.  Mrs.  Fay  was  a  scrupulously  neat  lady.  She  never 
allowed  a  fold  of  her  dress  to  be  out  of  place,  or  a  spot  to 
sully  its  purity.  Rena  was  the  most  careless  little  creature 
in  the  world.  She  was  always  tearing  her  frocks  by  climbing 
trees  and  jumping  fences;  she  was  always  soiling  them  by 
tumbling  down  in  the  mud  or  sand,  for  she  never  looked 
where  she  was  going.  She  went  dancing  along,  looking  up 
in  the  air,  twisting  her  neck  this  way  and  that,  to  see  the 
birds  fly  higher  and  higher,  till  they  became  mere  specks  on 


RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD  17 

the  dark-blue  ether,  till  she  came  in  contact  with  some  root 
or  branch  or  stone,  and  down  she  would  fall,  to  her  own  asto- 
nishment. She  forgot  she  had  not  wings,  like  a  bird,  she 
wished  for  them  so  often. 

Rena  now  stood  before  her  mother,  while  she  tied  the  large 
straw-hat  under  her  chin.  At  least  she  tried  to  stand  still, 
but  she  could  not  help  jumping  up  and  down  occasionally,  to 
beguile  the  time,  which  seemed  very  long  to  her. 

"  Now  mind,  and  go  out  softly,"  said  Mrs.  Fay,  "  or  I  shall 
call  you  back." 

Rena  stole  along  on  tip-toe,  looking  back  at  every  step,  till 
she  had  crossed  the  threshold,  then  away  she  ran  through 
the  garden-gate  down  the  gravel  path,  by  the  long  row  of  cur- 
rant bushes,  the  pear  trees  loaded  with  fruit,  the  apple  trees 
with  branches  bending  to  the  ground,  and,  attracted  by  the 
fragrance  of  the  new-mown  hay,  that  embalmed  the  whole 
atmosphere,  flew  down  a  green  lane,  till  she  came  where  the 
bright,  sharp  scythes  were  gleaming  in  the  sun,  and  the  long 
grass  made  music  as  it  fell,  with  a  soft  rustle,  beneath  their 
strokes.  • 

She  stood  peeping  through  the  fence,  for  a  few  moments, 
thinking  she  had  never  seen  anything  so  beautiful  as  that 
broad  field,  dotted  with  mounds  of  mown  grass,  drying  in  the 
sun,  and  striped  with  long  swathes,  freshly  cut,  giving  out  a 
pure,  healthy  odour,  sweeter  than  the  breath  of  roses.  The 
labourers,  strong,  brown  men,  standing  in  a  row,  with  their 
white  shirt  sleeves  rolled  up  above  the  elbows,  now  swinging 
to  the  right  the  brilliant  steel,  then  bringing  it  down  to  the 
left  with  a  sweeping  curve,  wading  along,  knee-deep,  through 
a  sea  of  verdure ;  she  never  could  be  tired  of  watching  their 
movements.  In  another  part  of  the  field,  where  the  mounds 
had  been  heaped  up  longest,  the  grass  was  driest, — there  was 
a  broad  cart,  drawn  by  a  pair  of  dark-brown,  white-faced  oxen, 
fat,  sleek,  strong,  and  lazy,  chewing  their  cud  with  indefatiga- 


18  RENAj   OR,   THK   SNOWBIRD. 

ble  gravity,  while  the  labourers  tossed  the  hay,  with  their  light 
pitchtorks,  into  the  cart,  already  apparently  nearly  filled,  but 
which  was  to  heave  higher  and  higher  its  odoriferous  burden, 
— on  the  top  of  the  load,  trampling  down  the  hay  as  it  fell 
in  rustling  showers  round  him — tall  and  straight,  with  broad 
shoulders  and  muscular  arms — llena  beheld  her  father;  and 
he  looked  very  magnificent  in  her  eyes,  standing  up  so  high, 
with  his  back  to  the  western  sky,  defined  so  boldly  on  its 
back-ground  of  crimson  and  gold ; — and  standing  by  her  fa- 
ther's side,  there  was  a  little  figure,  somewhat  taller  than  her- 
self, with  a  straw-hat,  just  like  her  own,  only  it  was  not  tied 
under  the  chin  j  and  it  wore  trowsers  instead  of  a  frock ;  it  was 
her  little  brother,  Henry,  a  year  or  two  older  than  herself,  but 
of  a  more  slender  and  delicate  frame,  so  that  they  might  have 
passed  for  the  same  age.  He  was  very  fair,  and  had  beautiful 
black,  curling  hair,  that  made  a  rich  framework  for  his  femi- 
nine features.  He  inherited  his  mother's  delicacy  of  consti- 
tution and  beauty  of  lineament — for  Mrs.  Fay  was  uncom- 
monly pretty,  and  every  one  said  he  was  her  favourite.  He 
was  certainly  a  much  more  manageable  child  than  Rena,  more 
quiet  and  neat.  He  was  fond  of  having  his  hair  smooth  and 
his  clothes  clean,  and  of  being  thought  pretty  and  sweet,  as 
he  had  so  often  been  told  he  was. 

Rena  did  not  care  how  she  looked ;  all  she  wanted  was  to 
be  loved ;  what  it  was  for,  she  did  not  care.  Love,  the  sun- 
shine of  love  within,  the  sunshine  of  heaven  without — this 
was  all  she  asked. 

Once,  when  her  mother  was  combing  Henry's  hair,  and 
smoothing  and  twisting  it  round  her  fingers,  then  letting  it 
drop  in  shining  ringlets,  on  which  she  gazed  with  lingering 
delight — Rena  suddenly  exclaimed  : 

"  What's  the  reason,  mama,  God  didn't  make  my  hair  curl 
tike  brother's  ?" 

"  Hush,  child ;  you  mustn't  ask  such  strange  questions." 


RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD.  19 

"But  I  want  to  know  the  reason.  I  do  know  it.  CJod 
loves  brother  better  than  he  does  me,  so  he  did  not  take  the 
trouble  to  curl  mine.  But  I'll  curl  it  myself,  when  it  gets 
long  enough  to  twist  round  my  fingers.  Please,  mama,  don't 
cut  it  so  short  any  more.  Henry  looks  like  a  girl,  and  I  like 
a  boy." 

"  You  are  more  like  a  boy,  indeed,  Rena,  with  your  rude, 
boisterous  ways.  You  really  ought  to  have  been  a  boy." 

"  I  wish  I  was  a  boy/'  said  Rena,  as  many  a  wild  little  girl 
has  done  before  her — though  the  germs  of  passionate  woman- 
hood lay  deep  within  her  bosom. 

We  left  Rena  peeping  through  the  fence  at  the  haymakers 
mowing  the  grass,  tossing  and  trampling  the  hay,  hurrying  to 
get  through  the  work  before  the  setting  of  the  sun  and  the 
falling  of  the  dew.  She  had  stood  still  wonderfully  long  for 
her;  but  an  irresistible  desire  to  be  mounted  on  the  load, 
where  her  father  and  Henry  were  standing,  impelled  her  to 
climb  over  the  fence,  flit  along  by  the  gleaming  scythes,  roll 
over  the  hay  mounds  as  they  came  in  her  path,  till  she  found 
herself  almost  under  the  heavy  feet  of  the  oxen. 

"  Rena,  you  little  spirit !  what  are  you  doing  there  ?"  called 
out  her  father,  from  his  green  top-loft. 

"  Rena,"  said  a  soft,  childish  voice,  "  get  up — the  oxen  will 
tread  on  you." 

"  Take  me  up  there,  papa.  Let  me  ride  home  with  you  and 
brother  on  the  hay-top." 

"  Well,  toss  her  up  here,"  said  Mr.  Fay,  wiping  his  reeking 
forehead,  and  stretching  out  his  strong  arms  towards  his  little 
girl,  who  was  already  lifted  by  one  of  the  haymakers,  high  in 
the  air ;  "  toss  her  up  and  I  will  catch  her.  Gently — there— 
I've  caught  her.  That's  a  brave  girl !  Now  we've  got  a  load. 
Gee  !  haw  ! — home,  white  faces." 

Slowly  and  majestically  the  "white  faces"  began  their 
iparch,  the  hay  sweeping  down  on  either  side  of  the  vehicle, 


20  RENAJ   OR,   THE   SNOWBIRD. 

like  a  lordly  drapery, — the  stalwart  farmer  still  standing  erect 
on  the  top,  his  little,  curly-headed,  fair-cheeked  boy  clinging 
to  one  hand,  and  Rena  perched  upon  his  shoulder,  like  a  wild 
oird  on  a  forest  oak,  sending  out  her  merry  laughter  on  the 
dewy  air,  that  began  to  roll  in  a  soft  mist  up  from  the  bosom 
of  the  river  that  skirted  the  valley; — like  a  triumphal  car  it 
rolled  up  the  green  avenue,  the  heavy  steps  of  the  animals 
falling  with  a  soft,  crushing  sound  on  the  rich  velvet  carpet 
spread  out  beneath  their  feet ; — the  large  barn  doors  swung 
back  at  its  approach,  Mr.  Fay  bowed  his  tall  form  as  it  passed 
through,  and  Rena  thrust  her  head  into  his  bosom  to  avoid  the 
contact  of  the  upper  beam. 

"  Now,  little  ones,  run  to  your  mother,"  cried  the  farmer, 
tossing  Rena  from  his  arms  into  the  soft  bed  on  which  they 
were  standing.  "  Ready,  boys ! — off  with  the  load — the  sun 
will  soon  be  down." 

The  hay  was  soon  sent  drifting  through  the  air  by  the  farmer 
and  his  "  merry  men  all,"  and  deposited  on  the  ample  loft. 
The  cattle  came  up  from  the  meadows,  and  stood  meekly  at 
the  barn-yard  gate,  waiting  for  the  milk-maid's  hand.  The 
sheep  ran  bleating  homeward — the  little  lambs  tumbling  over 
each  other — the  calves  kicked  and  frolicked  in  the  yard — the 
hens  went  gravely  to  roost,  conversing  in  a  low,  motherly  sort 
of  way,  as  if  they  did  not  wish  to  disturb  anybody  with  their 
domestic  matters.  Everything  was  assuming  a  quiet,  comfort- 
able, serene  appearance.  Mr.  Fay  shut  up  his  barn  for  the 
night.  It  was  his  pride — his  glory — that  noble,  new  barn, 
and  he  loved  it  next  to  his  wife  and  children.  The  house  was 
an  old  family  mansion,  handed  down  from  father  to  son,  kept 
in  excellent  repair,  very  neat  and  comfortable ;  but  the  paint 
was  faded,  worn  off  here  and  there,  in  irregular  patches ;  and 
an  occasional  new  shingle  in  the  roof  showed  that  time  had 
commenced  its  ravages  on  the  ancestral  building.  But  the 
barn  was  new,  and  of  magnificent  proportions.  It  was  painted 


RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD.  21 

a  light  corn  colour,  in  honour,  perhaps,  of  the  golden  grain ;  tho 
fencing  all  around  was  new  and  of  a  snowy  white,  contrasting 
strongly  with  the  deep  green  of  the  clover  fields  on  either  side. 
It  was  evident  the  world  was  going  well  with  Mr.  Fay,  and  all 
his  neighbours  rejoiced  in  his  prosperity,  for  he  was  a  man  of 
strong  understanding  improved  by  reading,  and  they  respected 
him;  he  was  of  incorruptible  integrity,  and  they  esteemed 
him ;  he  was  kind  and  good,  and  they  loved  him ;  he  filled 
offices  of  honour  and  trust  in  his  native  town ;  he  was  select- 
man, representative,  colonel  in  the  militia,  justice  of  peace. 
It  was  a  great  mistake  to  call  him  plain  Mister,  when  he  an- 
swered to  so  many  titles.  Colonel  Fay,  as  he  was  usually 
called,  must  henceforth  be  honoured  by  his  military  cognomen. 
He  liked  it  better  than  Squire,  for  his  father  was  a  revolution- 
ary officer,  and  he  inherited  from  him  a  martial  spirit  and  a 
glowing  patriotism. 

Col.  Fay,  having  closed  his  barn,  opened  the  gate,  that  ad- 
mitted the  meek-looking  cows  to  their  saucy,  bounding  young 
ones,  and  walked  leisurely  towards  the  house.  He  was  weary, 
for  he  had  been  toiling  hard,  but  he  was  grateful  for  th& 
coming  rest — grateful  to  God,  for  the  swelling  bounties  of  the 
year.  It  was  a  glorious  hay-making  season.  The  warm  sun 
had  dried  the  rich  grass  almost  as  soon  as  it  fell  beneath  the 
mower's  scythe — no  sudden  shower  had  drenched  it,  when 
about  to  be  borne  from  the  field,  just  shorn  of  its  green 
honours.  It  was  all  mown,  mostly  dried  and  housed,  ready 
for  the  necessities  of  the  long,  bleak  winter.  Full  of  grateful 
emotions  for  these  blessings,  he  lifted  his  hat  from  his  brow, 
which  contrasted  beautifully  in  its  still  unsunned  whiteness 
with  the  rest  of  his  sun  and  wind-browned  face,  and  turned 
reverently  towards  the  setting  sun,  whose  crimson  disk,  so 
large,  so  grand,  so  glorious,  was  just  rolling  down  the  slope 
of  day.  The  air  played  cod  and  lovingly  about  his  moistened 
hair,  and  the  leaves  of  the  young  apple  trees  rustled  softly 


22  1(K\A;   OR,   THE  SNOWBIRD. 

near  him.  Oh  !  the  soft,  summer  twilight  is  a  blessed  hour 
for  the  farmer.  He  fel£it  so,  and  would  have  lingered  long, 
gazing  on  that  rich  prospect,  all  his  own,  but  he  thought  of 
his  wife  and  children,  and  hastened  his  steps.  He  knew  his 
•wife  was  nervous,  and  did  not  like  to  have  supper  kept  wait- 
ing, and  such  was  his  habitual  courtesy  to  her,  that  he  would 
never  sit  down  at  the  table  without  exchanging  his  labour- 
soiled  garments  for  the  customary  suit  of  a  country  gentle- 
man. Pausing  at  the  well,  whose  long  sweep  sent  its  dark 
outline  on  the  gold  of  the  heavens,  and  whose  "  old  oaken, 
iron-bound,  and  moss-covered  bucket"  hung,  filled  with  crystal 
watery  wooing  his  thirst,  he  poised  it  on  the  brink  of  the 
curb,  and  drank  as  only  the  thirsty  labourer  can  drink. 

"Bless  God  for  cold  water,"  said  he  to  himself;  "and 
bless  God  for  a  good,  thoughtful  wife,"  continued  he,  as  he 
saw  the  ready  basin,  the  clean,  white  napkin,  and  the  odorous 
soap,  all  prepared  for  his  evening  ablution ;  "  and  bless  God, 
too,  for  dear,  sweet,  affectionate  children,"  was  the  language 
of  his  heart,  as  he  entered  his  home,  where  he  was  always 
welcomed  as  a  household  divinity. 

It  was  not  till  after  he  was  seated  quietly  at  the  supper- 
table,  that  he  remembered  that  Rena's  bright  little  face  had 
not  appeared  as  usual  at  the  door  to  greet  him,  that  he  had 
not  felt  her  light  weight  on  the  rounds  of  his  chair  behind,  as 
he  was  sure  to  do,  as  soon  as  he  had  blessed  his  bounteous 
board. 

"  Where's  little  Snowbird  ?"  cried  he. 

"  I  haven't  seen  her  since  you  returned  from  the  hay-field," 
replied  her  mother.  "  Henry  came  in  without  his  sister." 

"  Harry,"  said  his  father,  "tell  me  where  Kena  is  ?" 

Henry  lifted  his  curly  head  out  of  a  large  bowl  of  bread 
Mid  milk,  and  quietly  answered — 

"  I  don't  know,  sir." 

f*  When  did  you  see  her  last  ?" 


RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD.  23 

"In  the  barn." 

"When?" 

"  On  the  hay-cart." 

"  Strange  you  have  not  missed  the  child  sooner/'  said  he 
to  his  wife." 

"  I  did  miss  her — but  thought  she  was  safe  with  you." 

Col.  Fay  left  the  table,  and  going  to  the  door,  called  "  Rena" 
BO  loud,  that  Bravo,  the  house-dog,  waked  up  and  barked  with 
all  his  might.  No  answer — no  bounding  feet  came  at  his 
summons.  He  called  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs,  but  all  was 
still. 

"  Where  can  the  child  be  ?"  he  exclaimed ;  a  hot  flush 
shooting  across  his  temples. 

"  Where,  indeed  ?"  repeated  his  wife,  turning  still  paler. 
Henry  put  away  his  bread  and  milk — he  could  not  eat  any 
more,  because  sister's  bowl  was  standing  there  untouched. 
Rachel,  the  woman  of  all  work,  was  despatched  to  the  next 
neighbours,  to  make  inquiries,  while  Col.  Fay,  in  a  fever  of 
apprehension,  was  searching  every  nook  and  corner  of  the 
house  and  yard,  even  unconsciously  opening  the  bureau  draw- 
ers, in  search  of  the  missing  one.  At  any  other  hour  of  the 
day,  her  absence  would  not  have  been  so  surprising,  but  she 
never  was  known  to  leave  the  house  when  her  father  was  ex- 
pected, at  the  close  of  his  daily  labour.  To  be  the  first  to 
greet  him,  to  carry  his  hat  in  one  hand,  and  to  cling  to  him 
tightly  with  the  other,  was  her  joy  and  ambition.  It  is  no 
wonder  he  missed  her.  It  is  no  wonder  his  heart  palpitated 
with  nameless  apprehension.  At  last  the  whole  family  were 
assembled  in  the  yard,  where  several  of  the  neighbours,  with 
their  children,  were  also  collected,  attracted  by  that  strange 
mingling  of  sympathy  and  curiosity,  which  every  one  must  be 
conscious  of  having  experienced,  on  similar  occasions. 

Wonder  soon  deepened  into  fear — the  daring  child!  she 

was  always  running  into  danger !  What  was  become  of  her  ? 
36 


24  RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD. 

The  well !  Mrs.  Fay  thought  of  the  well,  so  deep  and  danger- 
ous, and  with  a  conviction  that  Rena  was  weltering  at  the 
bottom,  she  uttered  an  hysterical  scream,  holding  Henry  tight 
in  her  arms,  to  save  him  from  the  same  terrible,  fate.  But 
another  apprehension  equally  dreadful,  had  seized  upon  the 
father's  heart.  The  last  time  he  had  seen  her,  she  was  rolling 
from  the  top  of  the  cart,  on  to  the  loft,  preparatory,  as  he 
supposed,  to  jumping  down  to  the  floor.  -The  men  in  their 
haste  might  have  thrown  upon  her  a  mountain  of  hay,  whose 
superincumbent  weight  must  have  smothered  her,  as  well  as 
her  faint,  dying  cries. — Rena  was  his  darling,  and  the  very 
possibility  of  such  a  fate  was  agony  to  him. 

"  Follow  me,"  cried  he,  to  the  men,  who,  though  so  weary, 
were  roused  to  intense  action  by  the  distress  of  the  family ; 
"  follow  me,  for  as  God  hears  me,  I  do  believe  we  have  smo- 
thered my  child  in  the  hay-mow  1" 

A  mellow  light  still  lingered  abroad,  but  dark  shadows  were 
hanging  round  the  rafters,  and  in  the  interior  of  the  barn,  a 
lantern  was  brought  and  suspended  from  a  beam,  so  that  the 
rays  fell  directly  on  the  new-mown  hay.  One  of  the  labour- 
ers, in  his  excitement,  caught  up  a  pitchfork,  and  was  about 
to  plunge  it  into  the  mow,  when  Col.  Fay  arrested  his  arm 
and  exclaimed  in  a  voice  of  thunder — "  Great  heaven  !  what 
are  you  doing  ?"  at  the  same  time  hurling  the  instrument 
through  the  door,  with  such  force,  that  every  portion  of  the 
iron  prongs  was  buried  in  the  earth. 

It  was  astonishing  with  what  rapidity  the  fresh  hay  was 
thrown  off,  till  it  all  lay  light  and  high  and  odoriferous  in  the 
middle  of  the  floor. 

"  Thank  God  !"  cried  the  father,  wiping  the  sweat  drops  of 
agony  from  his  forehead,  "  she  is  not  here !  But  where  is  she  ? 
Where  is  my  little  Rena  ?  Her  mother  is  right :  she  must  be 
drowned."  And  Col.  Fay  wrung  his  hands,  and  bitter  drops 
foil  from  his  eyes. 


RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD.  25 

"  I  dare  say  the  child  has  fallen  asleep  somewhere,"  said 
one  of  the  men,  consolingly,  "  if  we  only  knew  where  it  was. 
I  remember — no,  /don't  remember  it,  for  I  was  but  a  crawling 
baby  then ; — but  I've  heard  my  mother  tell  it  many  a  time, 
what  a  hue  and  cry  there  was  once  about  my  being  lost. 
They  were  looking  for  me  all  night,  and  in  the  morning,  when 
they  took  up  the  ashes,  they  found  me  fast  asleep  in  the  briek 
ash-hole,  right  by  the  side  of  the  chimney.  It  was  a  nice 
warm  place,  and  I  slept  soundly.  When  they  first  saw  me 
they  took  my  red  head  for  a  large  coat  of  fire." 

While  he  was  speaking,  Col.  Fay,  gathering  hope  from  iis 
tone,  was  sweeping,  with  a  rapid  glance,  the  height  of  the 
barn.  There  were  three  lofts  rising  one  above  another,  like 
immense  cushions,  with  long,  heavy  fringes,  rustling  in  the 
night  air,  the  upper  very  near  the  roof,  where  innumerable 
swallows  made  their  summer  nests. 

"  There  was  a  ladder  reaching  to  the  upper  loft,  this  morn- 
ing," said  the  Colonel,  starting;  "I  don't  see  it  now." 

"  It  was  in  the  way  of  the  oxen,  when  they  turned,"  said 
the  red-headed  man,  who  was  lost  in  the  ash-hole ;  "  and  I 
carried  it  out  doors." 

Col.  Fay  did  not  wait  one  second,  before  he  had  brought 
the  ladder,  placed  it  in  its  former  position,  and  taking  the  lan- 
tern in  his  left  hand,  began  rapidly  to  ascend.  It  was  so  like 
his  wild  little  Rena  to  mount  up  among  the  swallows'  nests. 

"  Rena — Rena !"  he  cried,  hanging  the  lantern  on  the  top- 
most round  of  the  ladder,  and  springing  upon  the  loft,  he 
shaded  his  eyes  with  his  hand,  and  looked  anxiously  round 
him.  "  Rena,  if  you  are  alive,  hear  and  answer  me."  • 

Just  before  him  there  was*  a  little  heap,  which  now  began  to 
move ;  a  dishevelled  head  emerged  from  the  hay,  and  the  little 
Snowbird — for  such  was  the  pet  name  she  bore — suddenly 
awakened  by  the  voice  of  her  father,  and  frightened  at  finding 


26  RENAJ   OR,   THE   SNOWBIRD. 

herself  in  such  a  strange  place,  leaped  up  on  his  neck,  and 
clung  to  him,  her  large  eyes  looking  strangely  into  his. 

"  Why,  Rena !  you  little  witch-cat — you  naughty  child  I" 
cried  he,  hugging  her  so  tightly  as  almost  to  squeeze  the  breath 
out  of  her  body, — "  what  do  you  mean  by  frightening  us  so  ? 
How  in  the  world  came  you  here  ?  And  what  did  you  come 
for?" 

"  What  did  I  come  for  ?"  repeated  Rena,  rubbing  her  eyes 
vehemently.  "  I  came  up  to  see  the  swallows." 

"  Well,  if  you  ever  frighten  us  so  again — "  said  her  father, 
descending  the  ladder,  with  his  lost  child  in  his  arms.  He 
did  not  say  what  he  would  do,  he  was  certainly  too  glad  and 
grateful  to  punish  her  now.  A  shout  of  joy  welcomed  her 
below,  and  she  was  carried  in  a  kind  of  triumph  into  the 
house,  where  her  mother,  who  was  perfectly  prostrated  by 
anxiety  and  terror,  received  her  with  so  much  joy — so  many 
mingling  kisses  and  tears,  Rena  did  not  say  to  her  this  time, 
"You  don't  love  me,  mama;"  and  Mrs.  Fay  forgot  to  scold 
her  for  being  such  an  incorrigible,  unmanageable  child. 

But  the  next  morning,  when  all  her  nerves  seemed  un- 
sheathed, in  consequence  of  the  terrors  she  had  suffered,  she 
could  not  help  upbraiding  Rena  for  her  unconquerable  reck- 
lessness, adding,  as  she  generally  did,  as  a  kind  of  peroration, 
"  This  child  will  certainly  be  the  death  of  me !" 

Her  father,  too,  gave  her  a  long  and  serious  lecture  on  her 
rashness  and  thoughtlessness  of  the  feelings  of  others,  which 
melted  her  into  tears  of  penitence  and  remorse. 

"  Say  you  love  me,  papa,  and  I  never  will  do  so  any  more." 

No  ! — she  never  did  climb  up  on  the  hay-mow  again,  where 
the  swallows  flew  twittering  in  through  the  little  Gothic  win- 
dows, cut  for  their  accommodation  in  the  high,  pointed  roof, 
but  she  did  a  great  many  other  wild  and  daring  deeds,  that  set 
ber  poor  mother's  nerves  on  edge,  and  made  her  the  talk  and 
admiration  of  the  whole  neighbourhood. 


CHAPTER    II. 

"  Thy  downcast  glances,  grave  but  cunning, 

As  fringed  eyelids  rise  and  fall ; 
Thy  shyness,  swiftly  from  me  running, 

Is  infantine  coquetry  all — 
But  yet,  for  all  thy  merry  look, 

Thy  frisks  and  wiles,  the  time  is  coming 
When  thou  sh'alt  sit  in  cheerless  nook, 
The  weary  spell  or  horn-book  thumbing." 

JOANNA  BAILI.IK. 

"I  DON'T  want  to  go  home  with  Aunt  Debby.  1  lease, 
mama,  don't  tell  me  to  go.  I  will  stay  in  the  house  all  day, 
if  you  want  me  to.  I  will  be  good  and  quiet  all  the  time ;  I 
will  be  the  best  girl  in  the  world,  if  you  won't  send  me  away 
with  Aunt  Debby." 

"I  don't  send  you  away,  my  child,"  answered  Mrs.  Fay, 
with  a  troubled  countenance ;  "  but  Aunt  Debby  wants  you  to 
go  and  make  her  a  visit ;  and  it  is  very  kind  of  her  to  ask 
you.  She  knows  how  sickly  I  am,  and  that  I  can't  take  care 
of  you  as  I  ought;  and  as  she  has  no  little  girl  of  her  own, 
you  will  be  company  for  her,  too.  You  must  not  oflend  her 
by  letting  her  see  that  you  dislike  to  go.  She  will  teach  you 
to  knit  and  sew,  and  make  a  little  woman  of  you." 

The  drooping  spirits  of  the  grieved  child  flashed  up,  and 
her  cheeks  reddened  with  anger. 

"  I  don't  want  to  learn  to  knit  and  sew.  I  don't  want  to 
be  a  little  woman.  I  never  will  be  one.  God  made  me  a 
child,  and  I  mean  to  stay  one  as  long  as  I  live !  Aunt  Debby 
shan't  make  a  woman  of  me — and  I  won't  go  home  with  her." 

(27) 


28  RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD. 

"  What  is  that  you  are  saying,  Rcna  ?"  said  her  father, 
who  happened  to  enter  at  this  moment,  fixing  his  clear  blue 
eye  sternly  upon  her, — "  is  that  the  way  you  talk  to  your 
mother  ?" 

The  little  rebel  was  quelled  in  a  moment. 

"  Oh,  papa  !  pray  forgive  me  !  I  didn't  mean  to  say  it  to 
mama.  I  was  telling  myself  that  I  didn't  want  to  go  home 
with  Aunt  Debby." 

"  Rena,  that  is  not  the  truth.  Don't  tell  me  a  falsehood. 
I  can  forgive  anything  in  the  world  but  falsehood." 

The  frown,  she  dreaded  more  than  the  lightning's  flash, 
darkened  her  father's  brow.  Ashamed  of  her  prevarication, 
wretched  for  having  incurred  his  anger,  and  miserable  at  the 
idea  of  being  placed  under  the  authority  of  Aunt  Debby,  the 
poor  child  buried  her  face  in  her  hands  and  sobbed  aloud. 
Col.  Fay  could  not  resist  the  influence  of  her  tears.  He  took 
her  kindly  on  his  lap,  wiped  away  the  tears  as  fast  aa  they 
fell,  with  the  corner  of  her  apron,  and  gently  reasoned  with 
her  on  the  unhappy  effects  of  a  passionate  temper.  He  told 
her  how  much  her  mother  suffered  from  debility,  and  how 
necessary  it  was  for  her  to  be  kept  quiet  in  body  and  mind  j 
that  Aunt  Debby  was  very  kind  and  good,  and  would  teach 
her  many  things  that  every  little  girl  ought  to  learn,  but 
which  her  mother  was  not  well  enough  to  attend  to ;  that  her 
aunt  had  come  a  long  journey  on  purpose  to  convey  her  home 
with  her,  and  that  it  would  be  very  ungrateful  in  them  to 
refuse ;  that  she,  her  aunt,  lived  in  a  beautiful  country,  where 
the  berries  and  wild  flowers  grew  and  blossomed,  without  any- 
body's thinking  about  them,  and  where  the  blue  mountains 
were,  that  she  loved  to  look  at  every  night  when  the  sun  was 
getting  in  gold. 

Calmly  talking,  gently  reasoning,  kindly  looking,  he  not 
only  brought  his  quick-feeling,  passionate,  but  warm-hearted 
little  girl  to  submission,  but  even  induced  her  to  look  forward. 


RENA;  on,  THE  SNOWBIRD.  29 

with  the  quick-changing  impressions  of  childhood,  to  Aunt 
Debby's  distant  home  with  anticipations  of  pleasure,  connected 
with  the  wild  berries  and  blossoms,  the  property  of  God,  not 
man,  which  children  could  gather  at  their  will,  and  the  blue 
mountains  which  her  imagination  had  converted  into  the 
thrones  of  the  angels.  Colonel  Fay  whispered  a  few  more 
words  in  her  ear,  and,  sliding  down  from  his  arms,  she  want 
softly  up  to  her  mother,  and  told  her  she  was  very  sorry  she 
had  been  so  naughty,  that  she  would  go  home  with  Aunt 
Debby,  and  she  might  even  make  a  woman  of  her,  if  she 
pleased. 

It  was  not  without  many  heart-struggles  and  many  mis- 
givings that  Colonel  Fay  had  consented  to  part  with  this  wild, 
wayward,  but  affectionate  and  interesting  child.  His  wife, 
whose  beauty  had  attracted  his  youthful  fancy,  was  prevented 
both  by  intellectual  inferiority  and  physical  weakness,  from 
being  a  congenial  and  enlivening  companion.  Constitutionally 
indolent,  she  never  could  be  persuaded  that  exercise  in  the 
open  air  or  cold  baths  were  of  any  avail.  With  an  insane 
passion  for  medicine,  she  was  always  applying  some  patent 
remedies,  which  only  increased  the  nervous  irritation  she  was 
trying  to  subdue.  Too  feeble  to  take  a  broom  in  her  hand, 
she  would  sit  in  the  rocking-chair  and  sew,  making  others  feel 
as  nervous  as  herself  by  the  combined  motion  of  the  chair  and 
needle.  Colonel  Fay  had  a  generous  chivalry  of  character, 
which,  had  he  lived  in  the  days  of  knight-errantry,  would 
have  won  for  him  immortal  renown.  He  had  a  tenderness 
for  women  in  general,  and  for  his  wife  in  particular,  that  had 
a  softening  influence  on  his  voice  and  the  glance  of  his  eye 
whenever  he  addressed  them.  He  felt  for  his  Dale,  faded,  but 
still  pretty  wife,  the  pity  one  cherishes  for  A  delicate  child. 
He  listened  with  patience  to  her  complaints,  answered  all  hei 
appeals  *.o  sympathy  with  unwearying  attention — in  truth, 
made  her  selfish  by  excessive  indulgence.  People  will  he 


80  RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD. 

unjust  sometimes,  and  there  were  those  who  pitied  Colon  >1 
Fay  more  than  hig  wife,  who  thought  many  of  her  ills  ima- 
ginary, and  believed  that  if  she  chose  to  exert  herself  more, 
she  could  be  a  helpmate  and  companion  to  her  noble  and 
industrious  husband.  Man  loves  to  feel  his  power  and  strength, 
the  dependence  of  others  on  him  for  happiness.  He  loves  to 
feel  himself  the  lord  of  the  creation — to  stand  like  the  moun- 
tain oak,  braving  the  lightning  and  breasting  the  storm, 
rejoicing  in  the  close  embrace  of  the  vine  that,  divorced  from 
the  vigorous  trunk,  would  fall  withering  to  the  ground.  This 
is  the  reason  that  strong  and  powerful  men  so  often  love  feeble 
and  delicate  women — proud  and  intellectual  men  those  of  weak 
and  superficial  minds.  It  is  certain  that  Colonel  Fay  loved 
his  wife  with  unabated  tenderness,  and  the  slightest  request 
uttered  by  her  soft,  complaining  voice,  had  the  authority  of  a 
command.  He  loved  Henry,  his  son,  his  first-born,  his  fair, 
ringleted  boy,  with  his  prim,  quiet  ways  and  stay-in-door 
qualities ;  but  Rena,  as  we  said  before,  was  his  darling,  and 
his  heart  yearned  over  her,  with  a  love  that  baffled  description. 

At  night,  after  Mrs.  Fay  had  retired  to  bed,  which  she 
always  did  at  an  early  hour,  and  he  sat  reading  in  the  sitting- 
room  which  epened  into  their  sleeping  apartment,  Rena  would 
steal  noiselessly  out  of  her  little  trundle-bed,  and,  gliding  on 
tip-tie  to  her  father,  would  get  into  his  lap  and  nestle  in  his 
bosom.  Her  mother  always  made  her  and  Henry  go  to  bed 
by  dark :  and  Harry  slept  soon  and  soundly  after  his  ample 
supper  of  bread  and  milk,  but  Rena  was  the  most  wakeful 
child  in  the  world,  and  she  would  have  given  a  kingdom,  had 
it  been  in  her  possession,  for  the  privilege  of  sitting  up  to  a 
later  hour. 

But  Mrs.  Fay  adhered  to  the  good  old-fashioned  law  of  early 
to  bed  as  immutably  as  the  Medes  and  Persians  did  to  their 
ancient  rules,  and  it  was  to  her  a  moment  of  devout  thanks- 
giving when  the  restless  Rena  was  limited  to  the  range  of  a 


RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOAVBIRT>.  31 

pair  of  sheets  and  a  pillow.  To  bed  she  was  obliged  1 3  go  j 
but  sleep  she  could  not  and  would  not;  and  often,  when 
Rachel  came,  long  after  she  supposed  the  children  soundly 
asleep,  to  tuck  up  the  counterpane  and  arrange  the  bedclothes 
for  the  night,  she  would  be  startled  by  seeing  the  large,  bright 
eyes  of  Rena  staring  in  her  face,  like  two  young  moons.  Per- 
haps it  was  wrong  in  Colonel  Fay  to  sanction  Rena  in  this 
covert  act  of  disobedience ;  but  it  was  so  pleasant  to  have  her 
folded  up  in  his  arms,  like  a  sweet  flower  at  shut  of  day— -to 
see  her  eyes,  full  of  strange  intelligence,  following  his  down 
the  page  he  was  reading — to  read  aloud  to  her  some  passage, 
which  he  made  clear  to  her  comprehension, — and  then  gra- 
dually as  the  dews  of  sleep  fell  with  soft  slumberous  weight 
on  her  eyelids,  to  feel  her  head  press  gently  on  his  breast,  and 
her  breath,  the  pure  breath  of  childhood,  curl  along  his  cheek ; 
— all  this  was  very  pleasant,  and  he  used  to  watch  for  the 
light  patter  of  her  little  bare  feet,  and  their  sound  reminded 
him  of  the  falling  of  an  April  rain  on  the  tender  spring  grass. 
What  startling  questions  she  would  ask  about  God,  and  the 
mystery  of  her  being !  He  sometimes  thought,  when  he  looked 
upon  her  in  the  freshness  of  her  being,  animated  by  such  pre- 
cocious intelligence,  that  she  was  a  beautiful  spirit  sent  from 
another  sphere — "trailing  those  clouds  of  glory," — which  show 
they  come  from  God,  "  who  is  our  home." 

And  this  child  was  to  be  consigned  to  the  care  of  Aunt 
Debby,  that  her  mother  might  be  relieved  from  the  task  of 
managing  her — a  task  for  which  she  was  unfitted  in  body  and 
mind.  Was  Aunt  Debby  qualified  for  the  charge  ?  Colonel 
Fay  sighed  as  he  made  this  self-interrogation ;  for,  though  he 
had  perfect  confidence  in  the  goodness  of  her  heart  and  tho 
uprightness  of  her  principles,  he  was  well  aware  of  the  eccen- 
tricities of  her  character — the  result  of  strange  and  controlling 
circumstances, — and  feared  they  would  clash  too  often  with 
the  peculiarities  of  Rena's. 


32  RENA;  cm,  THE  SNOWBIBD. 

Aant  Debby,  alias  Mrs.  Wright,  the  sister  of  Colonel  Fay, 
was  a  childless  widow,  with  an  independent  property,  consist- 
ing of  a  large  and  beautiful  farm,  and  a  considerable  sum  of 
money  at  interest.  A  lawsuit,  which  was  instituted  against 
her,  had  called  her  from  home  at  a  season  of  the  year  when 
her  superintendence  was  most  required  over  her  own  farm  ;  but 
necessity  stops  not  for  inconvenience,  and  Aunt  Debby  never 
hesitated  where  duty  was  concerned.  Before  she  returned,  she 
resolved  to  extend  her  journey  and  carry  back  with  her  the 
little  niece,  whom  she  had  not  seen  since  she  was  an  infant, 
scarcely  more  than  a  span  long.  Perhaps  she  had  conceived 
the  idea  of  adopting  the  child  as  her  own,  and  wished  to  mould 
her  character  by  her  own  influences ;  perhaps  she  was  actuated 
by  pity  for  the  feeble  and  inefficient  mother;  or  it  might  be, 
that  she  felt  in  her  heart  the  cravings  of  unsatisfied  maternity, 
and  longed  for  an  object  to  fill  the  aching  void. 

"  Come  here,  child,  and  let  me  look  at  you,"  was  her  first 
salutation  to  Rena,  who  had  the  horror,  common  to  all  sensi- 
tive children,  of  being  looked  at  by  strangers.  Not  daring  to 
disobey,  she  walked  awkwardly  towards  her,  hanging  her  head, 
with  her  finger  in  her  mouth. 

"  Hold  up  your  head  and  take  your  finger  out  of  your  mouth. 
There,  you  look  better  now.  I  don't  allow  any  crooked  chil- 
dren about  me.  Very  good  face ;  not  as  pretty  as  Henry's, 
though ;  I  am  glad  of  it.  Straight  hair ;  I  am  glad  of  that, 
too.  Kinkey  heads  are  a  great  trouble.  If  I  had  that  little 
fellow  with  me,  I'd  shave  off  his  girl-ringlets  and  make  a  man 
of  him.  You  look  more  like  a  boy  than  he  does.  I  like  you 
the  better  for  it.  Well,  don't  you  want  to  go  home  with  me?" 

"No." 

"  No  what,  child  •"' 

"No,  ma'am." 

"  Why  not  ?    Don't  you  like  me  ?" 

«  No,  ma'am." 

"  Your  child  is  honest,"  said  she,  turning  to  her  brother 


RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD.  33 

"she  has  not  been  taught  to  flatter;  I  like  her  the  better 
for  it." 

Ilena,  as  soon  as  she  saw  her  aunt  engaged  in  conversation 
with  her  father,  sidled  back  to  her  scat,  and  sat  gazing  at  her 
through  her  long,  curling  lashes,  with  the  most  intense  curi- 
osity. She  had  heard  a  great  deal  said  about  Aunt  Debby— 
of  her  wealth  and  independence  of  character,  her  influence  ou 
those  around  her,  and  she  had  formed  an  image  in  her  mind 
of  something  grand  and  magnificent.  She  had  a  vague  idea 
that  she  carried  a  wand  in  her  hand,  which,  like  the  Fairy's 
in  "Cinderella,  or  the  Little  Glass  Slipper,"  could  turn  pump- 
kins into  beautiful  carriages,  and  mice  into  footmen  with 
golden  liveries. 

"Like  her!"  thought  she,  as  she  perused  every  lineament 
of  her  feature  with  an  unreceding  gaze ;  "  I  never  shall  like 
her  as  long  as  I  live;  I  wouldn't  go  home  with  her  to  save 
her  life." 

There  was  certainly  nothing  in  the  external  appearance  of 
Aunt  Debby  to  attract  the  admiration  of  a  child ;  and  at  this 
particular  time  she  was  divested  of  one  of  her  greatest  orna- 
ments. Her  hair  had  fallen  off  sometime  previous,  in  conse- 
quence of  a  bilious  fever,  and  a  young  crop,  about  two  inches 
long,  now  covered  her  head.  Her  friends  tried  to  induce  her 
to  wear  a  cap  till  time  should  replace  the  tresses  of  which  she 
had  been  despoiled.  But  she  disdained  such  abominations, — 
never,  even  at  night,  allowing  herself  to  be  encumbered  by 
such  an  unnecessary  appendage.  This  short  hair,  black  as 
ebony,  thick  and  glossy,  stood  up  around  her  forehead,  giving 
her  a  fierce,  warlike  aspect  in  the  eyes  of  the  wondering  Rena. 
Her  eyes  were  large,  black,  and  sparkling,  moving  from  object 
to  object  with  inconceivable  rapidity.  Her  nose  had  a  fine, 
Roman  outline ;  and  her  teeth  were  white,  regular,  and  beau- 
tiful. She  was  rather  small,  remarkably  erect,  very  neat  in 
her  dress — which  was  a  plain,  black  silk,  unrelieved  by  white 
lace  or  muslin — uudecorated  by  jewelry  or  ribbons.  There 


34  RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD. 

was  nothing  soft,  or  flowing,  or  shading  about  her ;  and  the 
short  straight  hair,  which  would  have  looked  perfectly  ridicu- 
lous on  almost  any  other  woman,  did  not  seem  out  of  place  on 
Aunt  Debby's  well  formed  head. 

There  are  some  females  with  whom  we  never  can  associate 
the  idea  of  love, — who  have  such  perfect  unity  of  character, 
we  never  can  imagine  them  as  forming  the  half  of  another. 
When  we  meet  with  a  person  of  this  description,  we  wonder 
by  what  invisible  wires  the  electric  spark  was  communicated 
to  a  kindred  heart.  We  wonder  if  they  ever  walked  under 
the  silver  light  of  the  moon,  listening  to  a  music  sweeter  than 
the  songs  of  angels,  clasping  with  thrilling  touch  the  mutual 
hand. 

Rena  was  not  old  enough  to  make  these  reflections ;  but 
she  repeated  to  herself  a  dozen  times-,  with  a  little  nod  of  the 
head,  of  which  she  was  perfectly  unconscious,  "  She  never 
could,  never  would  love  Aunt  Debby." 

The  morning  came,  when  Rena  was  to  leave  for  the  first 
time  her  native  home — father,  mother,  and  brother.  It  was 
a  great  event  in  her  young  life.  She  had  never  rode  in  a 
stage,  and  there  it  stood,  with  four  white  horses,  all  with 
arching  necks  and  flowing  manes,  right  before  their  door. 
She  saw  her  trunk  strapped  on  behind, — only  think  of  her 
having  a  trunk  of  her  own,  with  her  name  on  it !  There  was 
novelty,  there  was  importance  in  all  this,  and  her  heart  throb- 
bed with  expectation.  But  when  her  poor  pale-faced  mother 
kissed  her  and  wept  over  her,  and  told  her  she  wished  she  had 
not  let  her  go, — when  she  felt  Henry's  soft  curls  on  her  neck, 
as  he  gave  her  the  fond  parting  kiss, — and  more  than  all, 
when  her  father  clasped  her  in  his  arms,  pressed  her  to  hia 
heart,  praying  God  to  bless  and  protect  his  darling  little 
ftnoicbird,  while  the  tears  glistened  in  his  loving  blue  eyes, — 
ehe  wept  and  sobbed  aloud,  declaring  her  firm  resolution  to 
•tay,  and  not  go  away  with  Aunt  Debby. 


RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD.  35 

"  What  nonsense  is  this  ?"  cried  Aunt  Debby,  taking  the 
struggling  child  and  swinging  her  lightly  into  the  stage,  then 
jumping  in,  before  Colonel  Fay  had  time  to  assist  her  :  "  Good 
bye — good  bye ;  it  will  be  all  over  in  a  minute." 

In  a  second  the  stage  was  rattling  through  the  yard,  raking 
under  the  low-spreading  boughs  of  the  trees,  that  stood  an- 
cient sentinels  by  the  gateway.  Rena  put  her  head  out  of 
the  window,  and  strained  her  eyes,  blinded  as  they  were  with 
bitter  tears,  to  catch  the  last  glimpse  of  her  father's  tall  form, 
of  the  beautiful  sycamores,  whose  round  balls  she  so  much 
loved  to  play  with,  the  sturdy  oaks,  whose  shapely  acorns  with 
their  cup-like  shells  were  the  favourite  ornaments  of  her  baby- 
house  ; — then  of  the  stone  wall,  so  nice  and  compact,  whose 
level  top  was  her  daily  promenade.  Swiftly  they  all  vanished, 
and  feeling  her  situation  rather  inconvenient,  with  her  neck 
twisted  one  way  and  the  stage  bounding  along  with  the  velo- 
city of  lightning  the  other,  she  drew  back  on  her  seat  and  stu- 
died the  profile  of  Aunt  Debby's  green  silk  bonnet,  thinking 
it  had  a  severe  and  forbidding  look. 

"  That's  right,  little  one,"  said  her  aunt,  in  a  kind  tone, 
putting  her  arm  around  her  and  drawing  her  close  to  her ; 
"  it  is  dangerous  to  hav.e  the  head  bobbing  about  in  the  win- 
dow in  that  way.  Lay  it  in  my  lap,  and  go  to  sleep,  when 
you  are  tired  ;  we  shall  ride  all  night." 

There  was  something  sublime  in  the  idea  of  riding  all  the 
long,  dark  night,  behind  those  white,  flying  horses,  and  Ilena 
resolved  she  would  not  sleep,  but  watch  the  stars  as  they 
came  out  one  by  one,  winking  at  her  with  their  bright  eyes, 
and  perhaps  she  could  see  the  doors  of  heaven  open  aud  shut, 
to  let  the  radiant  creatures  in  and  out.  But  before  one  can- 
dle of  the  dark  was  lighted,  to  illumine  the  magni6cent  dome 
of  night,  the  little  traveller  was  soundly  sleeping  on  the  lap  of 
Aunt  Debby,  whose  arm  still  encircled  her,  and  who  ere  long 
sunk  into  sympathetic  slumbers,  as  the  irregular  vibrations  oJ 
her  green  bonnet  evidently  showed. 
37 


CHAPTER  in. 

"  And  as  they  sweep 

On  sounding  skates,  a  thousand  different  ways, 
In  circling  poise,  swift  as  the  winds,  along, 
The  then  gay  land  is  maddened  all  to  joy," 
*         *         *        "  Eager  in  rapid  sleds, 
Their  vigorous  youth  in  bold  contentions  wheel 
The  long-resounding  course."  THOMSON. 

SUNNY  DELL  lay  at  the  foot  of  a  green  slope,  which  seemed 
to  be  the  last  heave  of  a  mountain  that  rose  grandly  and  pro- 
tectingly  behind — a  smooth,  rich  plain  spread  out  in  a  green 
plateau  in  front,  where  the  oak  and  the  walnut  made  ample 
umbrellas  for  the  cattle  that  gathered  under  their  shade.  A 
beautiful  stream,  dashing  impetuously  down  the  mountain's 
side,  making  a  headlong  plunge,  with  something  of  the  cata- 
ract's grandeur,  then  rolling  over  a  gentler  declivity  and  form- 
ing here  and  there  silver  cascades,  meandered  round  this  plain, 
murmuring,  gurgling,  singing,  and  sparkling,  reflecting  the 
blue  of  the  heavens  and  the  green  of  the  earth.  The  hum  of 
industry  mingled  with  the  murmurs  and  songs  of  the  silvev 
cascades,  for  a  mill  was  erected  near  them,  so  that  the  bright, 
inerry  waters  worked,  as  well  as  danced  and  sung,  the  long 
sunny  day.  Nothing  about  Aunt  Debby  was  allowed  to  eat 
the  bread  of  idleness;  she  worked  herself,  and  everything 
around  her  must  work. 

The  house  was  a  tall,  ancestral-looking  building,  with  a 
sharp-pointed  roof,  that  cut  the  sky  like  a  wedge,  on  the  ex- 
tremities of  which  rose  large  white  martin  boxes,  perforated 
•vitb  innumerable  little  windows.  A  double  porch,  whose  pil 

;36) 


RENA;  OR,  THE  8NO\\imiD.  37 

lars  reached  to  the  summit  of  the  building,  and  which  were 
supported  on  blocks  of  gray  granite,  projected  square  and  broad 
in  front — and  wings  with  roofs,  that  slanted  nearly  to  the 
ground,  extended  on  either  side.  With  its  mountain  back- 
ground stern  and  cold,  its  rich  tapestry-work  in  front,  embroi- 
dered with  living  silver,  its  romantic  surroundings  and  com- 
manding site,  Sunny  Dell  was  a  beautiful  and  picturesque 
spot.  Owning  so  imposing  a  residence,  and  possessing  so 
independent  and  self-relying  a  character,  it  is  not  strange  that 
Aunt  Debby  exercised  a  great  influence  in  society.  The  only 
fear  she  had  was  of  being  thought  too  amiable.  Rather  than 
seem  to  seek  the  praise  of  the  world,  by  the  exercise  of  loving- 
kindness  and  tender  charity,  she  would  assume  a  harshness  of 
manner  foreign  to  her  feelings,  than  satisfy  in  private  the 
wants  of  her  better  nature.  Strong  and  often  bitter  in  her 
prejudices,  immovable  in  her  ideas  of  right  and  wrong,  warm 
in  her  feelings,  blunt  and  generally  cold  in  her  manners,  she 
reigned  over  her  household  with  the  absoluteness  of  a  queen, 
and  the  rectitude  of  a  judge. 

One  of  her  first  duties  was  to  commence  with  Rena  that 
system  of  discipline  she  intended  to  pursue  with  her.  She 
could  read  already,  but  she  must  not  be  allowed  to  read  at 
random,  just  as  the  spirit  moved  her.  She  must  have  a  stated 
hour  for  that  occupation.  Then  she  must  learn  to  knit  and 
to  sew,  and  have  her  regular  tasks  assigned,  so  as  to  know  the 
value  of  time.  We  will  not  attempt  to  describe  the  process 
of  Rena's  learning  to  knit.  It  was  so  long,  so  complicated,  so 
heartrending.  We  cannot  tell  how  many  times  the  yarn  was 
put  over  the  wrong  finger,  how  often  the  stitch  was  dropped, 
racing  down  to  the  very  selvage  of  the  stocking  and  making 
an  ugly  hole  when  it  was  at  last  taken  up ;  or  how  the  yarn 
being  woollen,  fretted  the  soft  skin  of  her  tender  fingers ;  or 
how  many  tears  bedewed  the  sharp-pointed  needles  that  would 
stick  into  her  flesh,  hold  them  as  she  might,  or  how  many 


38  RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD. 

times  Aunt  Debby's  thimble  rapped  her  pupil's  head  before 
she  accomplished  the  weighty  task.  She  did  know  how  to  sew 
in  a  kind  of  romantic  manner,  with  very  long  needle  frills, 
making  long,  skipping  stitches,  looking  off  half  the  time ;  but 
Aunt  Debby  taught  her  to  condense  her  labours,  and  confine 
her  attention,  by  the  charm  of  the  glittering  thimble,  never 
very  harshly,  but  briskly  applied.  This  was  an  old-fashioned 
kind  of  discipline,  under  which  Aunt  Debby  had  flourished 
marvellously  herself,  and  she  transmitted  it  to  her  descendants 
as  their  right. 

"  Oh !  I  never  shall  get  to  the  end  of  this  !"  said  Rena, 
looking  despairingly  the  whole  length  of  a  sheet  her  aunt  had 
given  her  to  sew  up.  "  Never,"  she  repeated,  emphatically — 
the  seam  apparently  lengthened  as  she  gained — 

"  Never  is  a  long  word  for  a  little  girl,"  said  Aunt  Debby, 
"  we  don't  let  them  use  it." 

"  It  is  so  warm — my  fingers  stick  so — " 

"  Well,  run  and  wash  your  hands,  child  ;  always  mind  and 
have  clean  fingers  when  you  sew." 

"  No,  I  didn't  mean  that,  it's  my  needle  that  is  so  sticky/* 

"  Here,  put  it  through  this  emery  ball." 

It  was  a  beautiful  ripe-looking,  red  woollen  strawberry,  and 
Ben  a  became  so  absorbed  in  its  beauties  she  forgot  the  pur- 
pose for  which  it  was  given  her. 

"  Oh  !"  said  she,  bringing  it  near  her  mouth,  "  what  a  nice 
strawberry  !  I  wish  it  was  a  real  one,  it  would  taste  so  good. 
Aunt,  don't  the  strawberries  grow  here  ?  Papa  said  the  berries 
sprang  up  here  without  your  knowing  it." 

"  Goodness,  how  the  child  prattles  !  Look,  Rena,  see  how 
high  the  sun  is ;  you  have  not  more  than  half  finished  that 
geam  ;  it  must  be  done  before  the  sun  sets — remember !" 

"  Please,  aunt,  let  me  go  to  the  top  of  the  stairs  and  sew 
down ;  I  can  work  so  much  quicker." 

An  assent  being  given,  Kena  flew  to  the  top  of  the  long 


RENAJ   OR,   THE   SNOWBIRD.  39 

flight  of  stairs,  her  arms  filled  with  her  large  piece  of  work ; 
then  counting  the  stairs,  she  folded  the  sheet  into  as  many 
divisions  as  there  were  stairs,  and  sticking  pins  into  each  fold, 
began  to  labour  as  if  her  life  depended  on  her  exertions.  As 
soon  as  she  reached  the  first  crease  she  descended  to  the  second 
stair,  and  so  on  till  the  whole  flight  was  gone  through,  and 
the  long  seam,  thus  subdivided,  completely  finished.  Aunt 
Debby  gave  her  an  approving  smile  when  she  deposited  the 
work  in  her  lap,  and  praised  the  mathematical  and  original 
method  she  had  adopted  to  facilitate  the  task.  After  that 
lu-iui  used  to  knit  and  sew  down  the  stairs  every  day ;  and  it 
was  astonishing  how  much  her  labours  were  lightened  by  the 
motion. 

But  this  confinement  was  hard  and  irksome  to  her,  and  her 
heart  often  rebelled  against  her  aunt,  and  wandered  back  to 
her  own  dear  home,  to  her  pretty,  delicate-looking  mother, 
her  fair  young  brother,  and  to  the  father  who  was  the  idol  of 
her  affections.  When  she  was  in  this  insurrectionary  state, 
she  would  look  down  from  her  airy  perch  on  her  aunt,  and 
think  she  looked  very  ugly  with  her  short  black  hair  sticking 
up  like  a  grenadier's  all  over  her  head.  She  thought  she 
hated  her,  and  had  a  great  temptation  to  tell  her  so ;  but  when, 
her  task  being  completed,  she  was  suffered  to  run  abroad 
round  Sunny  Dell,  to  dance  over  the  green  lawn  and  mimic  the 
leap  of  the  cascade,  and  the  warble  of  the  birds,  she  felt  re- 
morse for  the  hard  feelings  she  had  cherished.  She  loved  her 
aunt,  the  grass,  the  water,  the  birds,  every  animated  and 
inanimate  thing.  She  loved  God,  too,  who  had  put  her  in 
such  a  beautiful  world  and  given  her  a  heart  full  of  love 
and  joy. 

When  she  returned  home,  after  these  wild  rambles,  with 

her  spirit  saturated  with  the  loveliness  of  nature,  she  would 

hang  caressingly  round  her  aunt  and  ask  her  if  she  did  not 

love  her,  and  if  she  was  not  good ;  and  Aunt  Debby  would 

37 


40  RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD. 

take  her  in  her  lap  and  pat  her  head  softly,  witJiout  the  thimble  ; 
but  she  would  have  been  ashamed  to  have  had  any  one  know 
how  dearly  she  already  loved  the  child,  and  how  ardently  she 
wished  it  was  her  own. 

Rena  became  happier  after  a  while,  for  she  had  a  com- 
panion who  shared  in  the  lessons  she  received  from  Aunt 
Debby  in  sewing,  knitting,  and  reading.  Stella  Lightner  was 
an  orphan  child,  who  belonged  to  the  parish,  but  having 
attracted  the  attention  of  the  ladies  by  her  extreme  beauty, 
they  resolved  to  take  her  home  and  divide  her  among  them. 
She  thus  lived  a  kind  of  visiting  life,  petted  by  one,  tolerated 
by  another,  and  perhaps  unkindly  treated  by  a  third.  It  is 
well  known  how  soon  the  sparks  of  impulsive  benevolence  die 
away,  too  often  leaving  behind  the  ashes  of  regret.  The 
romantic  interest  which  Stella's  beauty  and  orphanage  excited 
gradually  cooled,  while  the  burden  of  her  maintenance  re- 
mained. There  were  some,  however,  who,  actuated  by  prin- 
ciple rather  than  impulse,  continued  to  feel  the  same  tender- 
ness for  their  protegee,  and  would  willingly  have  kept  fier  as  an 
abiding  member  of  their  household ;  but  this  the  association 
would  not  allow,  as  the  praise  of  charity  due  to  the  body  must 
not  be  engrossed  by  any  particular  member.  Aunt  Debby's 
turn  came  round,  when  Rena  had  been  with  her  about  a 
month ;  and,  to  the  inexpressible  joy  of  Rena,  Stella  was  domi- 
ciliated  at  Sunny  Dell. 

A  beautiful  child  is  certainly  the  most  beautiful  object  in 
the  world.  The  incarnation  of  innocence,  sweetness,  and 
grace ;  fresh  from  the  hands  of  its  Creator,  before  tempta- 
tion has  obscured,  or  sin  marred  or  passion  darkened  the 
image  of  the  Deity ;  it  comes  before  the  world-weary  eye,  a 
flower  sparkling  with  the  dews  of  Paradise,  and  breathing  the 
fragrance  of  Heaven. 

No  one  could  look  upon  Stella  Lightner  without  thinking 
of  all  that  is  most  sweet  and  lovely  in  the  material  and  spirit* 


RENAj   OB,   THE   SNOWBIRD.  41 

ual  world,  without  feeling  all  the  poetry,  all  the  music  of 
their  spirits  wakened  and  stirring  within  them.  The  soft 
whiteness  of  the  pearl  was  diffused  over  her  foiehead  and 
neck,  the  beautiful  carmine  of  the  sea-shell  was  mellowed  on 
her  cheek.  The  sunbeams  sported  in  her  golden  hair,  and 
the  stars  of  evening  shone  from  the  sapphire  heaven  of  her 
eyes.  This  is  no  exaggerated  description.  This  child  of  po- 
verty and  obscurity  was  one  of  those  rare  miracles  of  loveli- 
ness, which  sometimes  appear,  to  show  of  what  exquisite 
beauty  the  human  form  is  capable. 

Rena,  who  had  not  one  particle  of  envy  or  jealousy  in  her 
disposition,  and  who  had  a  keen  perception  of  the  beautiful 
wherever  it  was  seen,  gazed  with  rapture  on  her  young  com- 
panion— clasping  one  hand  in  hers,  and  passing  the  other 
over  her  shining  hair,  she  looked  into  her  eyes,  with  a  smile 
of  ecstasy. 

"  Little  girl,"  she  cried,  "  how  pretty  you  are !  How  I 
shall  love  you !  Brother  Henry  is  pretty,  but  not  half  as 
pretty  as  you.  His  hair  curls  too,  but  it  is  black — Mine  is 
straight — I  wish  it  did  curl  like  yours  I" 

"  Nonsense  I"  said  Aunt  Debby,  coming  like  a  dash  of  cold 
water  on  Rena's  enthusiasm — "  nonsense  !  your  hair  is  a  great 
deal  better  as  it  is.  I  would  soon  crop  off  her  curls,  if  some 
of  the  ladies  did  not  make  such  a  fuss  about  them.  And, 
Rena,  you  must  not  tell  her  she  is  pretty.  It  will  make  her 
vain,  and  I  am  afraid  the  poor  child  is  vain  enough  already." 

"But  God  made  her,  aunt — she  did  not  make  herself; 
she  can't  help  being  pretty." 

"  I  know  it — it  is  a  mere  accident — not  worth  talking 
about.  But  the  best  child  is  the  one  that  is  most  loved,  no 
matter  how  she  looks;  and  goodness  and  obedience  make  a 
child  look  pretty,  whether  she  is  so  or  not." 

Rena  resolved  that  she  always  would  be  good  and  obedient, 
that  she  might  be  loved  and  thought  pretty,  and  commoiceei 


,0 

RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD. 

her  knitting  with  unwonted  zeal.  With  her  aunt's  permis- 
sion she  took  Stella  with  her  to  the  top  of  the  stairs,  which 
the  young  eaglet  made  her  morning  eyrie,  and  told  her  how, 
when  she  had  knit  round  to  the  seam,  she  must  come  down 
one  step,  and  they  must  see  which  should  get  to  the  goal  first. 
She  found  Stella  far  behind  her  in  handicraft,  and  as  she 
would  not  leave  her  behind,  she  assisted  her  each  time  in 
completing  her  task,  so  that  they  might  finish  together,  and 
play  together  on  the  green. 

This  morning  was  an  epitome  of  their  daily  intercourse. 
In  every  lesson,  in  every  task,  Stella  was  a  laggard  and  delin- 
quent, and  Rena  toiled  with  double  apsiduity  to  shield  her 
from  blame  and  threatened  punishment.  If  her  deficiencies 
were  too  great  to  be  covered  by  Rena's  kindness,  and  she  was 
kept  in  doors  after  the  usual  hour,  Rena  would  remain  by  her 
side,  sympathizing  and  comforting.  She  could  not  bear  to 
see  tears  in  Stella's  beautiful  eyes,  and  the  sight  of  her  aunt's 
thimHe  rapping  on  her  golden  curls  sent  a  pang  through  her 
heart,  that  no  punishment  inflicted  on  herself  could  create. 
It  pcver  entered  her  mind  that  Stella  might  be  idle  and  self- 
ish, and  that  she  claimed  her  assistance  as  a  right,  instead  of 
asking  it  as  a  favour.  With  the  pure,  broad  mantle  of  child- 
ish charity  she  covered  every  offence,  and  loved  her  the  better, 
because  she  had  made  so  many  sacrifices  for  her. 

Thus  summer  passed  away,  and  autumn  too.  Stella  re- 
mained longer  than  the  allotted  time,  because  Rena  was  so 
unhappy  at  the  thought  of  being  separated  from  her.  Cold 
winter  came  on — and  the  green  lawn  was  all  covered  with 
snow.  But  the  little  girls  were  not  confined  to  the  house  on 
that  account.  Aunt  Debby  had  great  respect  for  exercise  in 
the  open  air,  and  she  never  allowed  any  one  near  her  to  com- 
plain of  the  cold.  Every  one  in  the  household  must  be  up  by 
day-light ;  not  only  up,  but  doing.  She  always  wakened  Rena 
and  Stella  herself,  and  if  they  began  to  rub  their  eyes  and 


EENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD  43 

turn  over  again,  to  have  a  little  more  slumber,  she  took  them 
right  out  of  their  warm  beds  and  set  them  shivering  in  the 
middle  of  the  room,  for  the  genial  influence  of  a  fire  was  not 
permitted  to  penetrate  their  sleeping  apartment.  They  were 
glad  enough  to  dress,  so  as  to  inhale  a  warmer  atmosphere. 
Here,  also,  Rena  performed  the  part  of  a  little  mother  to 
Stella,  assisting  her  to  dress  first,  often  incurring  reproof  her- 
eelf,  which  by  right  should  have  been  given  to  Stella.  These 
children  were  not  born  in  the  land  of  the  sunny  South,  where 
the  negroes  follow  the  steps  of  the  white  race  as  invariably  as 
the  shadow  follows  the  sunshine.  Aunt  Debby's  domestics, 
for  she  had  servants,  were  hired  to  attend  to  the  dairy,  to  spin 
and  weave,  not  to  wait  on  little  children.  She  attended  to 
everything  herself;  and  it  was  a  proverb,  that  Aunt  Debby 
got  more  work  for  her  money  than  any  other  woman  in  the 
parish.  No  sooner  were  they  dressed,  than  these  little  moun- 
tain warriors  of  the  elements  ran  out  and  washed  their  faces 
in  the  white,  sparkling  snow-drift,  till  the  warm  blood  seemed 
to  bubble  in  their  cheeks,  so  rosy  did  they  look.  Their  fingers 
would  be  cold  and  red  for  a  while,  but  they  tossed  their  arms 
over  their  breasts  till  the  warmth  circulated  uniformly  through 
their  veins,  and  keen  was  the  appetite  that  digested  Aunt 
Debby's  buckwheat  cakes,  muifins,  and  rolls. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

"  And  thus  at  the  collision  of  thy  name 
The  vivid  thought  still  flashes  through  my  frame, 

And  for  a  moment  all  things  as  they  were 
Flit  by  me;  they  are  gone — I  am  the  same."    BYRON. 

ONE  evening  (it  was  during  the  Christmas  holidays,  and 
all  the  boys  and  girls  far  and  near  were  enjoying  their  winter 
vacation),  there  was  a  great  gathering  of  the  juvenile  popula- 
tion, on  the  slope  of  the  mountains  behind  Sunny  Dell,  to 
coast  down  hill,  Dy  the  light  of  a  moon,  brighter  than  ever 
gilded  an  Italian  landscape, — for  the  transcendant  lustre  of 
the  moonbeams  that  are  reflected  by  an  expanse  of  unspotted 
enow,  so  white  that  no  fuller  on  earth  could  whiten  it.  is  such 
that  the  dazzled  eye  can  scarcely  bear  the  radiance.  A  slignt 
rain  had  drizzled  the  preceding  day,  and  glassed  the  surface 
of  the  snow,  so  that  it  shone,  one  wide  sheet  of  glittering 
crystal.  Rena  and  Stella  sat  perched  on  the  seat  of  one  of 
the  back  windows,  gazing  eagerly  after  the  merry  group  that, 
hooded,  capped,  and  cloaked,  went  laughing  up  the  ascent, 
tugging  the  sleds  after  them. 

"  Oh !  how  I  wish  we  could  go  too  I"  said  Rcna,  her  warm 
breath  turning  to  frost  on  the  glass  against  which  her  face  was 
pressed. 

"I  wish  so,  too,"  cried  Stella;  "we  might  go, — we  ought 
to, — for  there  are  girls  littler  than  we  there." 

Hannah,  the  ruddy,  good-natured  dairy-maid,  offered  to  go 
with  them  and  take  care  of  them,  if  Aunt  Debby  would  once 
break  through  her  fixed  rule,  and  let  them  go  abroad  after 

C-14) 


RENAJ   OR,   THE   SNOWBIRD.  45 

sundown.  It  was  hard  to  resist  the  pleading  eyes  of  Rena, 
when  they  had  that  velvet  look  they  sometimes  wore,  and  per- 
mission was  unexpectedly  granted.  Out  in  the  moonshine — 
up  on  the  hill-side — it  was  the  work  of  a  moment.  Hannah 
held  them  tight, — one  in  each  hand,  two  little  bundles  of 
woollen  and  fur;  but  she  might  as  well  have  attempted  to 
stay  the  arrow  when  shooting  from  the  bow,  as  to  keep  Rena 
still  when  in  the  midst  of  the  exciting  scene.  A  stranger  to 
most  of  the  children,  she  was  consequently  an  object  of 
curiosity,  and  they  gathered  round  her  to  the  neglect  of  little 
Star-eyes,  as  Stella  was  often  called.  This  was  not  pleasing 
to  the  young  beauty,  accustomed  as  she  was  to  be  the  cynosure 
of  juvenile  admiration ;  but  it  was  nothing  to  the  mortification 
she  endured  when  Sherwood  Lindsey,  the  most  aristocratic 
boy  in  town,  the  son  of  the  Hon.  Mr.  Lindsey,  the  celebrated 
lawyer, — the  tallest,  handsomest  boy  of  the  party,  took  Rena 
under  his  especial  patronage,  made  her  promise  to  ride  in  his 
sled,  and  none  other,  the  whole  evening,  leaving  her  to  the 
more  plebeian  throng. 

The  germs  of  envy  and  jealousy,  which  in  after  years  ex- 
panded into  such  rank  luxuriance,  were  planted  that  night  in 
the  bosom  of  Stella;  and  several  of  the  actors  in  this  cold, 
bright,  wintry  scene,  looked  back  to  it,  as  the  commencement 
of  a  dream  involving  the  most  important  and  thrilling  events 
of  their  life. 

Those,  who  have  never  witnessed  the  winter  glories  of  the 
North,  can  have  no  conception  of  the  magnificence  that  some- 
times clothes  the  landscape.  Winter  has  its  gala  days  and 
nights,  when  she  arrays  herself  in  diamonds  that  put  to  shame 
the  jewelry  of  royalty.  The  rain  which  had  fallen,  freezing 
as  it  fell,  had  hung  every  tree  with  ten  thousand  glittering 
icicles,  on  which  the  moon  shone  with  a  radiance  so  intense, 
they  resembled  the  crystalline  drops  swinging  from  a  silver 
chandelier.  Bright  and  sparkling  as  the  icicles  and  almost  a* 


46  RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD. 

cold,  the  children  sported  over  the  white,  shining  snow,  becom- 
ing more  and  more  exhilarated,  by  exercise  in  the  keen, 
bracing  air. 

Sherwood  Lindsey's  sled  was  the  finest  and  lightest  of  the 
whole,  and  it  was  considered  a  great  distinction  to  be  invited 
to  a  seat  in  it.  It  was  covered  with  a  buffalo  skin,  and  he  had 
a  string  of  bells  on  his  neck,  which  he  jingled  with  all  his 
might.  Placing  Rena  on  the  middle  of  the  buffalo,  and  wrap- 
ping it  carefully  round  her,  he  jumped  up  in  front,  and  giving 
a  loud  hurrah,  started  off,  a  long  train  of  sledjp  following  in 
quick  succession.  Swifter  and  swifter  the  train  went  on,  with 
constantly  accelerating  motion,  till  they  stopped  on  the  level 
snow,  where  most  of  them  contrived  to  tumble  out  into  a  drift, 
making  many  a  somerset  in  the  cold,  soft  bed.  To  toil  up 
again,  with  panting  breath,  that  curled  before  them  a  silver 
wreath  in  the  moon-light,  was  the  work  of  a  moment, — when 
again  they  darted  down  with  lightning  velocity,  while  their 
merry  shouts  were  echoed  by  the  mountain  side,  far  over  the 
precincts  of  Sunny  Dell.  Rena  never  was  so  wild,  so  full  of 
superabundant  mirth.  At  first  she  felt  a  little  shy  of  the  strange 
boy  who  had  taken  her  captive,  and  did  not  like  to  be  sepa- 
rated from  Stella,  but  she  soon  became  so  excited  by  the  amuse- 
ment, and  so  charmed  by  her  new  acquaintance,  that  she  forgot 
everything  else.  They  were  already  on  the  most  confidential 
terms.  He  had  informed  her  who  he  was,  who  his  father  was, 
what  academy  he  was  attending,  how  soon  he  expected  to  be 
able  to  enter  college,  and  that  he  intended  to  be  a  lawyer,  and 
a  very  distinguished  man.  Rena  had  no  idea  of  a  confidence 
which  was  not  reciprocal,  and  she  told  him  in  return,  all 
about  her  father  and  mother,  and  her  brother  Henry,  of  her 
being  lost  in  the  hay-mow,  of  the  red-headed  man  being  lost 
in  the  ash-hole  (for  the  anecdote  had  been  repeated  to  her), 
and  then  she  told  him  how  funny  she  thought  Aunt  Debby 
looked  when  she  first  saw  her,  with  her  hair  sticking  up  straight 


REN AJ   OR,   THE   SNOWBIRD.  47 

all  over  her  head.  Sherwood  laughed  very  heartily  at  this, 
and  shook  his  bells,  as  if  he  could  not  make  noise  enough  any 
other  way,  to  express  his  mirth. 

"  But  she  is  very  good,"  added  Rena,  with  feelings  of  com- 
punction that  she  had  involuntarily  exposed  her  aunt  to  ridicule; 
"and  I  love  her  very  much  now." 

"  That  is  more  than  I  do,"  exclaimed  Sherwood. 

"  What's  the  reason  you  don't  like  her  ?" 

"  No  matter.  Father  does  not  like  me  to  say  anything  aboat 
her.  Our  families  don't  visit.  I  am  sorry  for  it  now." 

"  So  am  I,"  cried  Rena  mournfully ;  "  I  wanted  you  to  come 
and  see  me.  But  you  are  a  big  boy,  and  perhaps  you  wouldn't 
come  if  your  father  would  let  you." 

"  Yes,  I  know  I  am  big,"  said  Sherwood,  pulling  up  his 
dark  fur  collar  round  his  glowing  cheeks,  with  an  air  of  manly 
pride;  "I  am  almost  thirteen." 

"  Oh  dear  !"  exclaimed  Rena,  ready  to  cry  with  vexation  at 
her  own  juvenility,  "and  I  am  only  six — in  my  seventh  year. 
How  very  old  you  are,  and  how  kind  you  are  to  talk  to  me, 
who  am  so  much  younger  I" 

"  You  are  a  dear,  sweet  little  soul,  and  I  love  you  dearly. 
I  wish  you  had  any  other  aunt,  than  Aunt  Debby,  but  that  is 
no  fault  of  yours." 

"Don't  you  think  Stella  the  prettiest  little  girl  you  ever 
saw  ?"  asked  Rena,  with  a  true  womanly  curiosity  to  know 
the  opinion  of  her  young  admirer. 

"  No,  I  like  your  looks  a  great  deal  better.  She  is  too  lili 
fied,  too  pinkified  to  suit  me.  She  looks  like  some  of  these 
pieces  of  wax-work,  I  have  seen  at  shows.  Besides,  I  don't 
like  her,  she's  proud,  and  poor  folks  have  no  business  to  be 
proud." 

Rena  was  about  to  ask  him  if  he  were  rich,  when  he  was 
summoned  by  his  companions  to  head  the  coasting  train  once 
mere 


48  RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD. 

"I'm  tired  of  coasting,"  said  he,  carelessly — "who'i  for 
skating  ?" 

"  I" — and  "  I" — repeated  a  dozen  boyish  voices,  and  the 
sleds  were  simultaneously  abandoned.  They  had  all  o>me 
prepared  for  this  amusement  also,  and  their  skates  were  dan- 
gling among  the  diamonds  of  the  adjacent  trees.  The  stream 
which  wound  around  Sunny  Dell  often  overflowed  its  banks  in 
winter,  and  covering  the  lawn  soon  hardened  into  ice,  as  the 
freezing  blasts  swept  over  it.  Around  the  mill,  where  the 
current  was  deepest  and  strongest,  the  water  still  dashed  over 
the  rocks,  and  made  dark  pools,  where  all  the  shadows  seemed 
to  gather  and  blacken. 

"  Rena,  you  keep  tight  hold  of  my  hand  while  I  am  ska- 
ting," said  Sherwood,  "  and  I  will  carry  you  over  tho  ico 
swifter  than  a  bird  skims  the  air." 

"  You  must  keep  away  from  the  mill  then,"  said  Hannah, 
anxious  for  the  safety  of  her  young  charge  ;  "  there  are  deep 
holes  there,  and  if  you  get  in  you'll  surely  be  drowned." 

"  I  know  it,  but  who's  fool  enough  to  go  near  them  when 
there's  an  ocean  of  hard  ice  right  before  him  ?  Here,  take  the 
young  lady's  tippet  and  hang  it  on  a  tree,  and  her  muff  too. 
Good  heavens!  it  is  big  enough  for  her  to  crawl  in;  she  can't 
slide  with  such  a  heavy  weight  upon  her." 

In  vain  Hannah  protested  she  would  take  cold.  Rcna 
would  have  them  off,  since  Sherwood  thought  they  were  too 
heavy  for  her,  and  she  was  so  warm  and  glowing  from  exer- 
cise she  really  felt  uncomfortable  with  them.  The  long,  dark 
tippet  was  tossed  upon  an  icy  bough,  where  it  coiled  an 
extemporaneous  serpent ;  and  the  huge  muff  perched  upon 
another  branch,  might  have  passed  for  a  bear  crouching  before 
it.  Stella  was  tired  and  wanted  to  go  home,  for  the  sight  of 
llena  clinging  to  the  hand  of  Sherwood  Lindsey  marred  all 
toer  enjoyment  It  was  in  vain  the  other  boys  contended  for 


RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWUIRD.  49 

her  hand,  since  the  lord  of  the  party  devoted  himself  exclu- 
sively to  another. 

Slowly  and  carefully,  at  first,  did  the  young  knight  glide 
along,  with  the  little  lady  holding  tightly  to  his  left  hand, 
scarcely  touching  the  ice  with  her  feet.  But  in  a  short  time, 
excited  by  the  sport,  and  by  the  music  of  his  own  bells,  that 
still  rung  merrily  round  his  neck,  he  caught  Rena  up  on  his 
shoulder  and  darted  off  with  triumphant  speed.  Now  to  the 
right — now  to  the  left,  in  a  graceful  curve,  with  motion  as 
uniform  and  untiring  as  the  pinions  of  a  sky-lark ;  then 
straight  forward,  with  one  arm  folded  on  his  breast,  the  other 
poising  the  dauntless  little  girl  in  the  air,  onward  he  flew, 
with  no  apparent  volition  of  his  own,  but  as  if  impelled  by 
some  irresistible,  invisible  power. 

Rena  clapped  her  hands  and  laughed  wildly,  and  looked 
back  in  triumph  on  the  pursuers,  who  tried  in  vain  to  keep  up 
with  their  dazzling  speed. 

"  Take  care,  Master  Sherwood,  take  care,  you  are  going  too 
near  the  mill  I"  called  Hannah,  who  had  been,  good-naturedly, 
sliding  about  by  herself  to  keep  warm.  "  Take  care  !"  ejacu- 
lated she,  in  a  louder  tone.  "  Mercy  on  me,  he  can't  stop  !" 

At  this  moment  a  terrible  scream  went  up,  high  above  the 
mountain.  The  icy  plain  gradually  descended  towards  the 
mill,  from  the  spot  where  Sherwood  was  skating  when  Hannah 
called.  He  had  been  going  with  such  accelerating  velocity,  un- 
aware that  he  was  approaching  an  inclined  plane,  that  he  could 
not  arrest  his  course.  A  small,  dark  pool  was  right  before 
him ;  he  did  not  see  it  till  just  on  its  brink ;  one  moment  he 
was  shooting  like  a  meteor  before  the  eye,  the  next  he  was 
gone — plunging  down  the  abyss.  But  as  he  felt  himself 
going,  helplessly,  irresistibly,  the  one  thought,  to  save  the 
little  girl  whose  life  he  had  endangered,  struggled  with  his 
doom.  He  cast  her  from  him  just  in  time  for  her  to  find  a 
frozen  bed  on  the  verge  of  the  chasm,  into  which  he  was  madly 


50  RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD. 

precipitated.  Hannah  ran,  breathless  with  terror,  to  snatch 
It  en  a  from  her  perilous  situation.  As  she  stooped  down  she 
eaw  the  boy  rise  above  the  water  and  catch  hold  of  the  ice 
that  hung  jagged  round  the  edge  of  the  chasm. 

"Hold  on,  hold  on,  Master  Sherwood  I"  she  cried j  "don't 
let  go,  I  can  save  you  I" 

The  tree,  on  which  the  long  fur  tippet  of  Rena  was  hang- 
ing, was  not  far  off.  It  was  astonishing  bow  she  could  get  it, 
without  falling  down  on  the  smooth  ice;  but  there  are  mo- 
ments when  some  self-forgetting  souls  seem  invested  with 
supernatural  powers,  and  this  was  one.  When  she  again 
approached  the  opening,  she  saw  with  horror,  the  boy  was 
gone.  His  benumbed  hands  had  loosened  from  their  holu, 
and  he  had  once  more  sunk  under  the  cold,  dark  waters. 
With  a  cry  of  despair,  she  called  on  his  name,  when  again  he 
rose  and  clutched  desperately  at  the  slippery  edges  above  him. 

"  There  I"  cried  Hannah,  throwing  down  to  him  the  dark 
coils  of  the  fur,  "  catch  it,  pull  hard  at  it — I'll  draw  you  out 
— I'm  strong  as  a  man — Hold  on — Hold  on — for  your  life  I 
Blessed  Lord !  give  him  strength,  and  me  too  I" 

The  next  moment  the  heroic  girl  lay  panting  on  the  ice, 
breathless  and  exhausted  from  the  exertions  she  had  made, 
and  by  her  side  was  the  lately  drowning  boy,  whom  she  had 
rescued  frcm  an  icy  grave.  And  round  them  both  was  a 
group  of  children  crying  and  wringing  their  hands,  their  wild 
sport  changed  instantaneously  to  heartrending  grief.  They 
could  not  Jealize  that  danger  was  over.  They  had  just  begun 
to  feel,  for  at  first  they  were  paralyzed  by  terror.  Nor  teas 
the  danger  entirely  past,  for  Sherwood  lay  insensible  on  the 
ice,  his  face  almost  as  white  as  the  snow.  Notwithstanding 
their  loud  cries,  no  one  had  come  to  their  relief — they  had 
oeen  so  boisterous  in  their  merriment,  at  a  little  distance  the 
change  from  joy  to  grief  was  not  perceptible. 

Hannah,  who  had  recovered  her  breath  and  energy,  rose, 


RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD.  51 

and  calling  the  largest  boys  to  assist  her,  lifted  Sherwood 
from  the  ice,  and  bore  him  in  the  direction  of  Aunt  Debby's 
house,  llena,  stunned  by  her  fall,  and  half  frozen,  now  the 
excitement  which  had  warmed  her  was  passed  away,  clung 
weeping  to  Hannah's  skirts,  gazing  with  anguish  and  dread 
on  the  pale  face  of  her  new  friend. 

Aunt  Debby  was  sitting  by  a  blazing  fire,  listening  to  the 
loud  ticking  of  the  old-fashioned  clock  behind  the  door, — that 
solemn,  peculiar  sound,  the  beating  of  the  heart  of  Time.  She 
felt  lonely,  melancholy — her  restless  ey  -s  were  fixed  on  the 
illuminated  hearth,  while  her  spirit  went  back  into  the  sha- 
dowy past  and  wandered  amidst  some  of  the  faded  visions  of 
her  youth.  She  was  lost  in  so  deep  a  revery,  she  did  not  at 
first  notice  the  lumbering  sound  of  many  feet  coming  through 
the  passage.  But  when  the  trampling  came  nearer,  she  start- 
ed up  in  alarm,  and,  hurrying  to  the  door,  threw  it  wide  open, 
BO  that  the  ruddy  blaze  from  the  chimney  lighted  up  the  cold, 
sad  group  slowly  entering.  The  boys  were  nearly  sinking 
under  their  burthen,  and  the  stout  arms  of  Hannah  vere 
beginning  •to  wax  heavy. 

"  What's  the  matter  ?  Who's  this  ?  Is  he  drowned  ?  Is 
he  dead?  Where's  Rena?  Where's  Stella?"  were  the 
interrogatories  of  Aunt  Debby,  who,  having  ascertained  by  a 
glance  the  safety  of  the  little  girls,  ran  into  her  bed-room 
and  brought  blankets,  which  having  warmed  by  the  blazing 
hearth,  she  wrapped  round  the  still  insensible  boy.  Hannah 
was  despatched  into  the  kitchen  for  warm  water,  the  best  old 
Cogniac  was  brought  from  the  closet,  and  every  means  resort- 
ed to,  promptly  and  energetically,  for  the  resuscitation  of  the 
youth,  whose  life-blood  began  to  glow  once  more  under  the 
genial  influence  acting  upon  his  frame. 

"  Poor  boy  !"  murmured  Aunt  Debby,  smoothing  the  moist, 
dark  hair,  that  fell  over  his  white  forehead.  "  Pretty  boy  ! 
what  a  pity;  if  he  had  been  drowned !  He  is  no  labourer's 


52  RENA;   OR,   THE   SNOWBIRD. 

Bon,"  continued  she,  rubbing  with  gentle  friction  the  fair, 
slender  fingers,  that  grew  warm  in  her  clasp. 

The  black  eyes  of  Aunt  Debby  sparkled  with  delight  when, 
lifting  his  heavy  lids,  he  gazed  earnestly  in  her  face.  There 
was  something  in  that  look,  however,  which  seemed  to  trou- 
ble her,  and  the  expression  of  her  countenance  changed. 

"Who  are  you?"  cried  she,  drawing  back  and  dropping 
the  hand  she  had  been  so  gently  chafing.  "  Whose  son  are 
you  ?" 

"  My  name  is  Sherwood  Lindsey,  my  father  is  the  Hon. 
Mr.  Lindsey  of  Bellevue,"  replied  the  aristocratic  boy,  raising 
himself  on  his  elbow  and  looking  haughtily  in  her  face.  The 
next  moment  his  tone  changed.  He  seemed  conscious  of  the 
want  of  gratitude  his  manner  evinced,  and  a  bright  flush  red- 
dened his  cheek. 

"  You  have  been  very  kind,  and  I  thank  you,"  said  he ;  "and 
father  will  thank  you  too." 

"  Sorry  am  I,"  cried  she,  her  eyes  flashing,  her  lips  quiver- 
ing with  passion,  "  sorry  am  I,  that  your  father's  son  ever 
darkened  doors  of  mine.  Little  thought  I  when  I  was  warm- 
ing you  into  life,  on  my  own  bosom,  that  it  was  the  son  of  my 
worst  enemy,  lying  under  my  roof — Hon.  Mr.  Lindsey ! — 
Honourable  Viper !" 

"  Stop — I  won't  hear  my  father  called  such  names;  if  you 
were  not  a  woman  I'd  knock  you  down !"  cried  Sherwood, 
springing  up  and  dashing .  me  blankets  on  the  floor.  The 
brandy  they  had  poured  down  his  throat  so  copiously,  now 
burned  in  his  veins  and  added  fire  to  his  naturally  high  pas- 
sions. "  Where's  my  hat  and  cloak  ?  I'll  not  stay  another 
moment  whore  my  father  is  insulted  !" 

"  Go,  then,  hot-brained  son  of  a  cold,  selfish  father !"  ex- 
claimed Aunt  Debby,  throwing  the  door  wide  open  for  him  to 
pass;  "go  and  tell  him  that  I,  Deborah  Fay,  breathed  the 
warmth  of  uiy  own  heart  into  your  frozen  limbs.  Hear  what 


RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD.  53 

he  will  say  to  that.  But  no — "  she  added,  with  a  sudden 
revulsion  of  feeling,  "  you  shall  not  go.  Come  back,  and  I  will 
send  you  home ;  you  must  not  walk — you  will  get  cold,  sick. 
Hannah,  shut  the  door,  and  keep  him  from  going." 

Sherwood  struggled  in  her  grasp,  but  when  Hannah  laid 
her  hand  on  his  arm,  the  memory  of  her  generous  efforts  in 
his  behalf,  the  thought  that  he  owed  his  life  to  her,  arrested 
him.  "  Brave  girl — good  girl  I"  cried  he,  pressing  gratefully 
that  strong  hand  in  both  his  own.  "  If  it  had  not  been  for 
you  I  should  have  perished.  Father  will  reward  you,  for  he 
is  not  a  cold,  selfish  man.  And  I,  if  I  should  live  to  the  age 
of  Methuselah,  will  remember  what  you  have  done  for  me 
to-night.  And  you,  you  dear  little  warm-hearted  creature," 
exclaimed  the  boy,  snatching  Rena,  who,  troubling  and  fright- 
ened, kept  close  to  Hannah's  side,  in  his  arms,  and  kissing  her 
a  half-dozen  times,  "good-bye;  I'm  glad  I  haven't  your  pre- 
cious life  to  answer  for.  I  shall  see  you  again,  in  spite  of  all 
the  Aunt  Debbys  in  the  world  !" 

Putting  her  gently  on  the  floor,  he  sprang  through  the  door, 
slammed  it  after  him,  ran  through  the  passage,  leaped  across 
the  threshold,  flew  over  the  frozen  lawn,  and  was  out  of  sight 
in  a  moment.  The  other  children,  cold  and  weary,  more 
slowly  followed.  Hannah,  after  giving  the  sheets  a  hot,  sugar 
warming,  deposited  Rena  and  Stella  in  bed.  Aunt  Debby  sat 
down  alone,  by  the  hearth-side,  and  there  she  sat  for  hours, 
gazing  at  the  wood  as  it  burned  into  brands,  falling  with 
blackened  ends  from  the  andirons,  at  the  brands  till  they 
turned  into  glowing  coals,  and  then  she  watched  the  coals  aa 
they  were  slowly  converted  into  embers,  the  gray,  ashy  hue 
stealing  over  their  ruddiness,  till  nothing  but  coldness  and 
desolation  remained,  where  all  had  been  warmth  and  brilliancy. 
But  her  thoughts  were  far  away  from  the  lonely  hearth.  The 
sight  of  that  boy,  looking  at  her  so  steadfastly  with  those  dark, 
expressive  eyes,  so  like  his  father's,  had  penetrated  the  icy 


64  RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD. 

crust  which  covered  the  waters  of  memory,  and  the  current 
rolled  coldly  and  darkly  along. 

It  rolled  colder  and  darker,  till,  overwhelmed  by  its  waves, 
she  bent  her  head  forward  till  it  rested  on  her  knees,  and 
tears,  bitter  and  passionate,  gushed  from  her  eyes. 

Oh  !  how  many  such  tears  gush  forth  in  secret,  which  the 
world  knows  not  of !  How  many,  who  are  deemed  cold  and 
unfeeling,  and  harsh  and  selfish,  thus  in  solitude  and  darkness 
give  vent  to  the  anguish  of  a  wounded  heart,  and  mourn  with 
unavailing  regret  over  their  blighted  hopes,  withered  affections, 
and  embittered  feelings ! 

Who,  that  saw  Aunt  Debby  the  next  morning,  bustling 
about  the  house,  directing  Hannah  how  to  skim  the  milk  and 
scald  the  churn,  and  Peter  how  to  feed  the  cattle  and  the 
swine,  her  quick  eyes  seeing  and  controlling  everything,  would 
have  recognised  the  passionate  woman,  who  sat  weeping  by  the 
lonely  hearth-stone  ? 


CHAPTER  V.      • 

"  I  saw  her  once — so  freshly  fair, 

That,  like  a  blossom  just  unfolding, 
She  opened  to  life's  cloudless  air ; 

And  Nature  joyed  to  view  its  moulding. 
Oh !  who  could  look  on  such  a  form, 

So  heavenly  fair,  so  softly  tender, 
And  darkly  dream,  that  earthly  sin 

Should  dim  such  sweet,  delicious  splendour  1" 

A  MESSENGER  from  Mr.  Lindsey!  Aunt  Debby's  face 
reddened,  but  she  did  not  dash  the  packet  into  the  man's  face. 
as  Hannah  feared  she  would.  She  opened  it,  and  found  a 
note  to  herself,  and  a  folded  paper  directed  to  Hannah.  The 
note  expressed,  in  a  polite  but  constrained  manner,  hia  grati- 
tude for  her  kindness  to  his  son,  and  his  hope  that  he  might 
be  permitted  to  cancel  the  obligations  she  had  imposed  upon 
him.  The  envelope  to  Hannah  contained  a  hundred  dollar 
bill,  accompanied  by  some  gentlemanly  expressions  of  grati- 
tude and  esteem.  Aunt  Debby's  eyes  flashed  fire  as  she 
perused  the  note.  It  peemed  that  all  the  worst  passions  of 
her  nature  were  roused  by  contact  with  any  of  the  inmates  of 
Bellevue. 

"Tell  Mr.  Lindsey — the  Hon.  Mr.  Lindsey,"  said  she, 
emphasizing  the  title  with  ironical  force,  "  that  he  owes  no 
gratitude  to  me.  I  did  no  more  for  his  son  than  I  would  for 
a  drowning  puppy  or  a  freezing  calf.  Tell  him  this — and  tell 
him  what  Hannah  says,  too.  I  know  she  scorns  his  money, 
or  she  is  not  the  girl  I  take  her  to  be." 

But  Hannah  did  not  scorn  the  money.  She  was  a  hard- 
38  (65) 


5(J  RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD. 

working  servant  girl,  whose  weekly  wages  were  divided  with 
an  inlirni  and  widowed  mother.  So  large  a  sum  had  nev»r 
been  in  her  possession  before,  and  visions  of  luxury  for  herself 
and  mother,  of  fine  dresses,  and  admiring  eyes,  swam  before 
the  young  and  ruddy  dairy-maid.  It  would  be  so  grand  to 
go  to  the  stores  and  ask  the  clerks  to  change  her  hundred 
dollar  bill,  to  have  it  in  bright,  hard  specie,  which  would 
chink  and  make  music  in  her  ears !  She  looked  at  the  bill, 
at  Aunt  Debby,  whose  eyes  were  severely  scanning  her  honest 
and  ingenuous  countenance,  at  the  good-looking  young  mau 
who  was  waiting  for  her  reply,  and  then  at  little  Rena,  who 
was  gazing  eagerly  in  her  face.  There  was  something  in  the 
expression,  of  Ilena's  earnest  eyes  that  induced  Hannah  to 
say — 

"What  would  you  do,  Miss  Rena,  if  you  were  in  my 
place?" 

"  I  wouldn't  be  paid  for  being  good,"  whispered  the  child, 
f<  if  it  was  me." 

"  Nor  I,  either !"  cried  Hannah,  the  independent  spirit  of 
our  country's  yeomanry  triumphing  over  the  temptation. 
"  Tell  Mr.  Lindsey,"  added  she,  turning  to  the  young  man, 
and  handing  him  the  paper,  while  she  imitated  unconsciously 
the  dignified  tones  of  Aunt  Debby,  "  that  I'm  just  as  much 
obliged  to  him  as  if  I  took  his  money,^hftl  I  think  it  was  very 
generous  in  him  to  offer  it.  But  I  didn't  do  anything  to  be 
paid  for.  I  could  not  stand  by  and  see  anybody  drowned, 
when  I  thought  of  a  way  to  save  them.  It  didn't  cost  me 
anything  but  a  hard  pull,  and  my  arms  are  strong  enough  for 
that." 

The  look  of  profound  and  respectful  admiration  with  which 
the  young  man  regarded  the  disinterested  dairy-maid  was  not 
unperceived  by  its  object.  It  was  probably  a  richer  reward 
than  the  hundred  dollars  would  have  been.  Light  was  her 
heart,  and  buoyant  her  steps,  as  she  resumed  her  daily  duties, 


RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD.  57 

and  she  sung  so  long  and  loud  while  plying  the  churn-dash, 
and  working  over  the  butter,  that  Aunt  Debby,  who  had  no 
particular  love  for  music  of  any  kind,  was  driven  in  despair  to  a 
distant  part  of  the  house.  She  did  not  like  to  reprove  her 
Oursts  of  melody,  aa  she  was  pleased  with  her  act  of  self- 
renunciation.  From  this  time  she  raised  her  wages,  and 
added  to  the  presents  she  was  in  the  habit  of  sending  her 
invalid  mother.  Hannah  felt  her  domestic  position  elevated, 
and  feeling  more  self-respect,  fulfilled  her  duties,  not  with 
more  fidelity,  that  was  not  possible,  but  with  more  cheerful- 
ness. She  put  more  heart  into  her  services,  and  love  makes 
every  burden  light. 

It  was  surprising  how  often  she  met  the  young  man  who 
brought  Mr.  Lindsey's  note,  as  the  families  of  Sunny  Dell  and 
Bellevue  had  nothing  to  do  with  each  other.  At  first  he 
passed  her  with  a  low  bow,  and  an  admiring  glance,  then  he 
ventured  to  assist  her  over  a  muddy  place  by  the  way-side,  and 
at  length,  emboldened  by  her  smiles  and  blushes,  accompanied 
her  from  church,  as  far  as  the  mill-dam.  After  that  Hannah 
discovered  (it  certainly  was  a  mysterious  process  of  the  under- 
standing, by  which  she  arrived  at  this  conclusion)  that  it  was 
the  most  convenient  way  to  bring  »round  her  brimming  milk- 
pails  by  the  dam,  though  she  encountered  a  stone  wall  and  a 
five  rail  fence ;  but  Jimmy  Bell  so  often  happened  to  be  there, 
it  was  quite  a  pleasant  circumstance.  He  dared  not  encounter 
the  flashing  eyes  of  Aunt  Debby,  whom  he  looked  upon  as  the 
Cerberus  of  Sunny  Dell.  Not  that  he  knew  anything  of  Cer- 
berus, but  he  was  well  acquainted  with  mastiffs  and  watch-dogs 
with  one  head,  and  he  would  much  rather  encounter  all  their 
terrors,  than  one  glance  of  Aunt  Debby's  keen  black  eyes.  So 
he  wooed  the  ruddy  milk-maid  by  the  side  of  the  mill-dam, 
where  the  snow  lay  in  drifts  against  the  rocks,  and  the  dashing 
waters  left  icicles,  where  its  foam  had  whitened  and  heaved. 
It  was  a  cold  place,  but  love  warmed  their  hearts  and  took 


58  RENA;  OR,  THE  INOWBIRD. 

away  the  winter's  chill ;  and  they  talked  of  the  time  when 
they  should  have  a  nice  little  cottage  and  farm  of  their  own, 
when  Hannah  would  milk  their  own  cows,  and  make  their  own 
butter  and  cheese. 

Poor  little  Rena  began  to  be  homesick.  She  loved  Aunt 
Debby  and  Hannah,  and  Stella  too,  though  Stella  never  seemed 
to  love  Tier  as  well  since  the  night  Sherwood  Lindsey  made  her 
the  queen  of  the  juvenile  party.  But  she  was  tired  of  tho 
monotony  of  her  life.  She  was  tired  of  knitting  and  sewing, 
and  reading  mechanically.  She  wanted  to  be  with  her  pale, 
pretty  mother,  her  gentle  brother,  and  to  nestle  once  more  in 
her  father's  caressi  /g  arms.  When  once  this  feeling  got  pos- 
session of  her,  it  grew  into  actual  sickness.  She  could  not 
eat,  nor  sleep,  and  her  rosy,  healthy,  sunny  face  assumed  a  wan, 
wistful  look,  that  grieved  Aunt  Debby  very  much,  for  she 
loved  the  child,  and  would  gladly  have  adopted  her  as  her  own. 
She  wrote,  however,  to  her  brother  to  come  for  Rena,  on  con 
dition  that  when  the  child  was  a  little  older,  she  should  return 
again  to  Sunny  Dell. 

It  is  not  to  be  supposed  that  Rena  had  no  curiosity  with 
regard  to  her  aunt's  enmity  towards  the  Lindsey  family,  or  that 
ehe  bad  forgotten  the  friend  towards  whom  she  was  so  strongly 
attracted.  She  had  interrogated  her  aunt,  who  told  her  it 
was  no  business  of  hers,  that  little  girls  had  one  tongue  and 
two  ears,  so  that  they  could  listen  twice  and  speak  once.  She 
had  asked  Hannah,  who  answered  that  she  did  not  know;  she 
believed  it  commenced  in  politics,  before  Mr.  Wright  died,  and 
that  Mr.  Lindsey  had  started  a  lawsuit  against  Mr.  Wright, 
and  that  it  was  still  going  on,  and  that  Aunt  Debby  declared 
she  would  never  pay  a  cent,  if  all  the  judges  in  the  United 
States  decided  against  her.  Sherwood  had  been  absent  at  schorl 
since  he  was  a  very  small  boy,  which  was  the  reason  he  was 
not  recognised  when  brought  in  by  the  heroic  Hannah,  into 
her  mistress's  house. 


RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD.  59 

One  day,  it  the  early  spring,  just  before  her  return  home, 
Rena  was  ridir  ig  with  her  aunt,  in  her  family  chaise.  The  roads 
were  exceedingly  bad,  as  they  always  are  in  northern  latitudes, 
after  the  breaking  up  of  winter.  It  was  a  one  horse  chaise, 
and  Aunt  Debby  drove  her  gray  roan  herself,  in  all  the  glory 
of  independence.  Her  green  bonnet  was  put  farther  back 
than  usual,  so  that  she  could  see  better  how  to  select  the  best 
part  of  the  road ;  and  as  she  held  the  reins  in  both  hands,  some- 
what separated,  with  her  profile  considerably  elevated,  Rena 
could  not  help  thinking  again,  how  funny  Aunt  Debby  looked, 
and  she  burst  into  a  sudden  fit  of  laughter.  Fortunately  for 
her,  there  came  along  at  that  moment  a  handsome  carriage, 
drawn  by  a  span  of  coal-black  horses,  which  seemed  to  disdain 
the  mud  that  hung  to  their  white  fetlocks. 

"Look,  aunt,  look!"  said  the  delighted  Rena;  " there's 
Jimmy  Bell  driving  that  pretty  carriage !  And  look,  aunt,  what 
a  pretty  lady!  what  a  fine  gentleman! — he's  bowing  to  you, 
aunt.  Who  is  it?" 

"  Hush,  hush !"  cried  her  aunt,  giving  her  whip  a  tremendous 
flourish  over  the  head  of  the  horse,  which  almost  stopped  while 
the  carriage  was  rolling  by.  The  lady  who  sat  leaning  back, 
wrapped  up  in  India  shawls,  was  very  beautiful,  and  the  gen- 
tleman, who  bowed  to  Aunt  Debby,  had  a  dark  and  very 
striking  countenance. 

"Who  is  it?"  responded  Rena — "Is  it  Mr.  Lindsey?" 

"  Yes,  it  is  the  Hon.  Mr.  Lindsey,  and  the  Hon.  Mrs.  Lind- 
sey," replied  Aunt  Debby  in  a  tone  of  bitterness,  giving  her 
horse  another  flourish  about  the  ears. 

Rena  wished  Sherwood  had  been  with  them,  and  wondered 
if  she  should  ever  see  him  again,  and  when  he  was  as  old,  if 
he  would  look  as  grand  as  his  father,  and  ride  in  as  fine  a  car- 
riage, drawn  by  shining  black  horses.  But  when  she  returned 
to  Sunny  Dell,  the  forgot  all  about  Sherwood  Lindsey  and 
dreams  of  the  future,  for  her  own  dear  father  stood  at  th« 


60  RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD. 

door  to  greet  her,  tall,  erect,  and  handsome  as  ever,  with  the 
same  loving  smile !  With  one  bound  she  cleared  the  chaise, 
and  was  hanging  round  his  neck,  crying  and  sobbing,  and 
hugging  and  kissing  him,  as  he  never  had  been  kissed  before. 
She  was  not  satisfied  with  kissing  his  face  a  thousand  times ; 
she  took  his  hands,  hardened  by  honourable  labour,  but  pure 
from  all  evil-doing,  and  pressed  first  one  and  then  the  other 
to  her  lips  and  heart,  with  truly  oriental  grace  of  action. 

"  You've  spoiled  her,  brother  j"  said  Aunt  Debby,  her  eyes 
glistening  in  spite  of  herself.  "  You  should  not  do  it.  It  is 
dangerous  to  cultivate  the  affections  too  highly.  That  child 
must  go  through  a  hardening  process,  or  she  will  be  wretched." 

"  Poor  philosophy,  sister  Debby,"  answered  Col.  Fay;  "  the 
heart  hardens  fast  enough  of  itself,  without  making  use  of  any 
artificial  measures.  I  have  never  yet  seen  too  much  heart  in 
this  world.  I  would  as  soon  take  a  cake  of  ice  and  put  it  on 
her  head  to  keep  it  from  growing,  as  try  to  repress  the  love 
that  gushes  out  to  meet  mine.  I  have  found  the  only  true 
happiness  of  life,  in  the  exercise  of  the  affections — and  I 
thank  my  Maker,  that  he  has  given  me,  and  my  little  girl 
too,  a  warm  heart." 

"  It  may  be  a  blessing  for  a  man,  but  a  curse  to  woman," 
replied  Aunt  Debby,  shaking  her  head. 

"  But  who  is  this  little  lady  ?"  asked  the  Colonel,  turning 
to  Stella,  who  stood  in  the  back-ground,  looking  inquisitively 
at  the  strange  gentleman  ;  "  who  is  this  beautiful  child  ?" 

"  This  is  Stella,v  cried  Rena,  running  and  leading  her  to 
her  father,  with  a  patronizing  air.  "Haven't  you  heard  of 
Stella?  She  is  my  playmate,  and  I  love  her.  And  hasn't 
she  got  pretty  hair  ?"  and  Rena  tried  to  Bmooth  down  the 
ripples  of  gold  with  her  caressing  hand. 

Col.  Fay  was  very  fond  of  children.  He  took  them  on  each 
knee  and  looked  from  one  to  the  other ;  then  his  eyes  rested 


RENA;   OR,   THE   SNOWBIRD. 

on  the  extraordinary  beauty  of  Stella  with  manifest  admira- 
tion 

"  Don't  you  wish  I  was  as  pretty  as  Stella,  papa  ?"  whis- 
pered Rena,  interpreting  his  thoughts. 

"  It  is  the  heart  and  the  mind  that  gives  beauty  to  the  face, 
my  child,  and  while  you  keep  the  one  pure  and  the  other 
bright,  you  will  look  pretty  enough." 

Stella  had  so  often  heard  it  remarked  by  strangers,  that  she 
was  beautiful,  that  it  excited  no  surprise.  She  considered  the 
praise  of  beauty  her  inalienable  right,  and  heard  her  praises 
as  a  matter  of  course.  They  never  seemed  to  elate  her.  The 
purple  iris  of  her  deep  blue  eyes  never  dilated  with  rapture, 
when  she  heard  them  compared  to  the  stars  in  lustre;  but 
vanity  was  growing  rankly,  a  barren  weed,  in  her  heart, 
absorbing  all  the  strength  of  the  soil,  and  shading  and  dark- 
ening every  better  feeling.  Deceit  too  and  envy  were  there, 
waiting  only  for  sunshine  and  opportunity  to  develope  their 
growth.  Admiration  was  already  become  necessary  to  her 
happiness,  and  she  was  restless  and  miserable  when  there  was 
no  one  near  to  admire  and  to  praise.  Rena,  in  her  unenvying 
artlessness,  was  always  telling  her  how  sweet  and  pretty  she 
was,  and  therefore  she  loved  to  have  Rena  with  her,  and  smiled 
upon  and  caressed  her ;  but  let  their  interests  clash,  let  her  for 
one  moment  be  shaded  by  Rena's  engaging  qualities,  she  felt 
that  she  was  wronged,  outraged,  and  then  she  actually  hated 
her  confiding  little  friend. 

An  incident  which  occurred  the  morning  of  Rena's  depart- 
ure illustrates  one  of  Stella's  qualities. 

Aunt  Debby  had  filled  a  bag  with  cakes  and  apples  for  the 
accommodation  of  the  travellers,  and  a  nice  little  covered  bas- 
ket, with  the  choicest  kind  of  golden  pippins,  for  Mrs.  Fay. 
It  was  the  season  of  the  year  when  apples  were  getting  very 
scarce,  and  she  knew  they  would  be  considered  a  great  luxury 
by  an  invalid.  The  bag  and  basket  were  deposited  on  the  top 


RENA;   OR,   THE   SNOWBIRD. 

of  Rena' s  trunk,  the  night  before,  to  be  ready  for  the  early 
morning  ride.  When  the  articles  were  brought  into  the 
breakfast  room,  Aunt  Debby  thought  she  would  give  one 
more  look  at  her  pet  apples,  and  secure  the  cover  a  little  more 
carefully.  To  her  astonishment,  the  basket  was  more  than 
half  empty. 

"  Rena,"  said  she,  sharply,  "  have  you  been  eating  your 
mother's  apples,  when  I've  given  you  so  many  of  your  own  ?" 

"  No,  ma'am,  I  wouldn't  think  of  such  a  thing,"  answered 
Rena,  blushing  painfully  at  the  imputation. 

"  Then  it  must  have  been  you,  Stella,"  said  Aunt  Debby, 
looking  keenly  into  her  eyes. 

"  /  never  touched  one,  I'm  sure,  ma'am,"  replied  Stella, 
appearing  as  calm  and  as  sweet  as  a  little  angel.  Again  the 
keen  black  eyes  turned  to  the  blushing  Rena,  who,  oppressed 
by  the  scrutiny,  and  the  consciousness  that  she  was  an  object 
of  suspicion,  burst  into  tears.  Col.  Fay  was  troubled ;  he 
knew  a  child  might  be  tempted  into  falsehood  to  shield  itself 
from  blame,  and  he  did  not  think  Rena  infallible ;  but  the 
selfish  greediness  that  prompted  the  act,  was  so  foreign  to  her 
reckless,  generous  nature,  he  did  not  believe  her  to  be  the 
culprit. 

"  Some  one  must  have  taken  them,"  repeated  Aunt  Debby  j 
"  they  did  not  walk  out  of  the  basket  without  help.  I  don't 
mind  the  apples,  but  I  do  despise  greediness  and  falsehood. 
Rena,  I'm  sorry  for  it,  but  I  know  you  did  take  them,  they 
were  right  by  your  bed-side." 

"  I  never,  never  did,"  cried  the  child,  passionate  indigna- 
tion drying  up  her  tears ;  then  seizing  the  basket  and  turning 
it  upside  down,  letting  all  the  remaining  apples  roll  on  the 
floor,  "  I  don't  want  the  old  apples !"  she  cried ;  "  Mama 
shan't  have  one  of  them  !  they  would  choke  her,  I  know  !" 

"  Rena,  Rena  !"  cried  her  father,  fixing  upon  her  one  of 
those  calm,  upbraiding  looks,  which  always  had  such  power 


RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD.  63 

over  her.  She  was  too  much  excited  now  to  be  subdued  at 
once.  She  had  loved  her  aunt  so  much  just  before ;  she  was 
so  softened  by  the  recollection  of  all  her  kindness,  forgetting 
everything  that  was  harsh  and  forbidding,  on  the  eve  of  being 
separated  from  her,  that  the  injustice  of  the  accusation  caused 
a  bitter,  smarting  sense  of  wrong.  Stella,  stooping  down, 
calmly  picked  up  the  apples,  putting  them  into  the  basket, 
with  a  sweet  tranquillity  of  manner  that  appeared  much  more 
amiable  than  Rena's  passionate  excitement.  Col.  Fay  thought 
so,  as  he  looked  down  upon  her  and  then  upon  his  own  child ; 
and  he  was  grieved  that  such  a  cloud  should  rest  upon  the 
parting  hour. 

"  Here,"  cried  Hannah,  entering  at  this  moment  with  her 
hands  full  of  golden  pippins,  an  exulting  expression  on  her 
countenance ;  "  I  found  them  at  the  bottom  of  Stella's  little 
trunk,  right  under  all  her  clothes." 

"  You  didn't,"  exclaimed  Stella,  springing  up  and  con- 
fronting Hannah ;  "  I  didn't  put  them  there ;  you've  no  busi- 
ness in  my  trunk." 

"  Yes,  but  I  have  though,  when  the  truth  is  to  be  found 
out.  I  knew  from  the  first  who  had  them,  and  was  deter- 
mined to  root  the  matter  to  the  bottom." 

"How  did  you  know,  Hannah?"  asked  Aunt  Debby, 
thankful  that  Stella  and  not  llena  was  the  offender. 

"  Because  I've  known  her  take  fruit  and  cake  before  and 
hide  it,  and  Miss  Rena  never  did  such  a  thing  in  her  life ; 
she  is  not  a  thief  nor  a  liar."  The  vain  little  charity  girl  was 
no  favourite  with  the  honest  dairy-maid. 

"  Go  up  stairs,  Stella,"  said  Aunt  Debby ;  "  go  into  your 
room ;  shut  the  door,  and  stay  there  till  I  call  you.  Rena,  you 
must  not  speak  to  her ;  I  forbid  it." 

Rena,  since  her  own  character  was  cleared  from  suspicion, 
felt  deeply  the  disgrace  of  her  companion.  Her  judgment 
condemned,  but  her  heart  pitied  her.  She  grieved  for  the 


64  RENAJ   OR,   THE   SNOWBIRD. 

violence  she  had  displayed,  and  implored  Aunt  Debby's  for- 
giveness for  herself  and  Stella  too. 

"  I  am  ashamed,"  said  her  aunt,  "  that  I  could  have  be- 
lieved my  brother's  child  guilty  of  such  meanness.  The  Fays 
may  have  their  faults,  but  they  never  were  a  mean  race. 
Stella  came  from  a  different  stock.  The  dregs  stick  to  her." 

"  Did  you  know  her  parents  ?"  asked  her  brother. 

"  I  saw  her  mother  at  the  almshouse  a  short  time  before 
her  death.  She  was  very  young,  and  even  then  exceedingly 
beautiful.  You  can  judge  of  her  beauty  by  the  little  girl, 
who  is  her  exact  miniature.  She  never  revealed  the  name  of 
Stella's  father,  though  she  said  he  was  still  living.  He  must 
be  an  unprincipled  man,  and  I  am  afraid  Stella  resembles  him 
in  character." 

"But,  sister  Debby,  deal  gently  with  that  erring  child. 
Convince  her,  that  while  you  hate  the  offence,  you  can  still 
love  the  offender.  I  am  sorry  to  see  such  coolness  of  deception 
in  one  so  very  young.  But  do  not  cast  her  from  you,  for  this, 
perhaps,  her  first  transgression.  Many  a  hardened  criminal 
might  have  been  redeemed,  if  their  first  faults  had  been  met 
with  gentleness  and  mercy,  instead  of  severity." 

"  Well — I  will  not  be  too  harsh  with  her,  though  she  de- 
serves a  severe  punishment.  But  of  one  thing  be  assured ; 
when  Rena  returns,  as  you  have  promised  she  one  day  shall, 
I  shall  be  careful  about  her  being  domesticated  with  Stella." 

Well  was  it  for  Stella,  that  so  kind  and  excellent  a  man  as 
Col.  Fay  pleaded  in  her  behalf,  and  well  was  it  for  Rena,  that 
she  had  a  father  so  affectionate,  so  intelligent,  and  judicious, 
to  watch  over  her  wayward  childhood.  Pleasant  was  her 
homeward  journey,  and  many  a  sweet  lesson  of  love  and  wis- 
dom was  breathed  into  her  ear,  while  she  was  borne  rapidly 
back  to  scenes  made  a  thousand  times  dearer  by  absence. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

•*  She  was  a  phantom  of  delight, 
When  first  she  gleamed  upon  my  sight,-— 
A  lovely  apparition,  sent 
To  be  a  moment's  ornament ; 
Her  eyes  as  stars  of  twilight  fair, 
Like  twilight's  too  her  dusky  hair  ; 
But  all  things  else  about  her,  drawn 
From  May-time  and  the  cheerful  dawn — 
A  dancing  shape — an  image  gay, 
To  haunt,  to  startle,  and  waylay."  WOEDSWOETH. 

IP  we  thought  the  reader  felt  half  the  interest  in  our  little 
Rena,  that  we  do  ourself,  we  would  linger  still  longer  on  the 
eastern  horizon  of  her  existence,  which,  though  sometimes 
darkened  by  the  clouds  of  passion,  usually  sparkled  with  that 
rosy  light,  never  seen,  save  in  life's  dewy  morn.  We  cannot 
bear  that  she  should  grow  older,  fearing  that  she  may  lose 
some  of  the  freshness  and  brightness  and  unselfishness  of  her 
character.  We  do  not  want  her  to  go  to  school,  to  come  in 
contact  with  rude  and  perhaps  unprincipled  children,  to  be 
whirled  about  in  the  vortex  of  young,  boiling  passions.  We 
do  not  even  wish  her  to  visit  Aunt  Debby  again,  while  Star- 
eyes  is  there,  or  Golden  Pippin,  as  Hannah  loved  to  call  her 
after  the  abduction  of  the  apples. 

But  Rena,  with  strange  perverseness,  will  grow  older,  will 
go  to  school,  and  even  visit  Sunny  Dell,  when  Aunt  Debby 
comes  expressly  for  her.  In  ancient  times,  and  even  now  in 
some  eastern  countries,  there  is  a  belief  in  the  power  of  talis- 
mans to  avert  evil  from  those  who  bear  them  in  their  bosoms. 

(65) 


66  RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD. 

In  our  own  country  and  neighbourhood,  we  witness  daily 
proofs  *of  this  superstition — babies  with  little  aromatic  and 
pungent-smelling  bags  suspended  from  their  innocent  necks, 
to  act  as  counter-charms  to  the  malignant  influence  of  the 
measles,  scarlet  fever,  and  whooping  cough,  those  immemorial 
and  deadly  foes  to  childhood,  llena  must  have  had  some  such 
hidden  talisman,  to  preserve  her  from  the  influence  of  evil  ex- 
ample, and  the  hardening  effect  of  that  worldly  wisdom,  which 
children  too  precociously  acquire. 

She  did  not  attend  a  fashionable  boarding  school,  which  would 
carry  her  away  from  her  simple  country  home,  but  the  Academy 
in  her  own  town,  which  was  taught  by  a  profound  classical 
scholar.  It  was  an  institution  that  included  children  of  both 
sexes,  but  they  studied  in  different  apartments,  meeting  only 
at  the  recitation  hours,  under  the  watchful  eye  of  their  literary 
guardian.  Henry,  though  two  years  older  than  his  sister,  was 
in  the  same  class,  and  far  behind  her  in  scholastic  attainments. 
This  was  a  source  of  great  pain  and  mortification  to  her,  and 
she  often  allowsd  questions  to  pass  her,  in  seeming  ignorance, 
rather  than  take  precedence  of  her  brother.  Indeed  he  was  a 
source  of  trouble  to  her  in  many  ways,  for  though  generally 
gentle  and  forbearing  when  injuries  were  inflicted  on  herself, 
her  spirit  flashed  high,  when  they  approached  the  objects  of  her 
love.  Mrs.  Fay,  who  still  made  Henry's  feminine  beauty  her 
pride  and  delight,  took  most  injudicious  pains  with  his  dress 
and  appearance.  She  continued  to  smooth  and  curl  his  long, 
black  hair,  ruffled  and  plaited  his  fine  shirt  collars,  while 
Rena's  dress  was  comparatively  neglected.  The  boys  called 
him  little  dandy,  and  girl-boy,  and  loved  to  put  burrs  in  his 
curls,  and  ink-spots  on  his  collars,  which  he  dared  not  resent 
himself,  but  which  often  exasperated  the  high-spirited  Rena. 
If  Henry  had  not  been  her  own  brother  she  would  probably 
have  despised  his  dandyism  and  cowardice,  and  in  her  juve- 
nile wildness  have  manifested  her  feelings  in  mischievous 


RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD.  67 

ridicule ;  bat  he  was  such  a  quiet,  good  boy  at  home,  and  so 
idolized  by  his  mother,  so  pretty  and  genteel,  she  felt  he  ought 
to  be  sacred  from  vulgar  teasings,  and  determined  he  should  be. 

She  was  a  universal  favourite  herself.  When  assembled  at 
play-hours  on  the  green  in  front  of  the  Academy,  under  the 
shade  of  a  large  elm,  the  trysting-spot  of  all  their  sports, 
Rena  was  called  upon  to  decide  what  amusement  they  should 
engage  in,  and  appointed  to  all  places  of  honour  and  distinction. 
If  it  was  "  Queen  Ann  who  sits  in  the  sun,"  she  was  made  to 
personate  her  royal  highness,  who  by  a  wonderful  chemical 
secret,  is  at  the  same  time  as  "  fair  as  a  lily  and  as  brown  as  a 
bun."  If  it  was  the  time-honoured  play  of  "  I'm  on  Titmouse's 
land,  and  Titmouse  can't  catch  me,"  she  was  sure  to  be  chosen 
the  great  Titmouse  himself,  and  placed  in  triumph  in  the  cen- 
tre of  the  green.  If  the  martial  game  of  Prisoner's  Bass  was 
the  amusement  of  the  hour,  Rena  was  claimed  with  eager  con- 
tention by  both  parties,  for  she  was  the  swiftest  runner,  the 
most  dauntless  rescuer,  and  the  most  successful  eloper  of  the 
whole  band.  She  resolved  to  give  up  all  this  pre-eminence 
for  Henry's  sake.  When  the  play-hour  came,  instead  of  lead- 
ing off  the  merry  train,  she  took  Henry's  hand  and  went  with 
him  to  the  woods  to  gather  wild  flowers,  or  sat  down  with  him 
in  the  Academy  and  assisted  him  in  getting  his  lesson^ 

"  Rena,  come  and  play  with  us ;  there's  no  fun  without  you; 
we  cannot  get  along  without  you,"  was  the  cry  of  all  the  boys 
and  girls. 

"  No,  I  don't  want  to  play  with  you  any  more,  you've 
bad  hearts,  and  I  don't  love  you.  You  tease  Henry  and  make 
'/rim  unhappy,  and  he  never  did  anything  to  hurt  you.  I  don't 
want  you  to  love  me,  unless  you  love  him  too." 

"  We  will  love  him,  we  won't  tease  him,"  was  the  vocife- 
rous promise  of  all,  and  Rena,  with  trusting  faith,  once  more 
threw  herself  wildly  into  their  sports. 

At  first  they  were  rather  too  officious  in  their  manifestations 


68  RENAj   OR,   TUB   SNOWBIRD. 

of  good-will  to  Henry,  painfully  reminding  him  of  all  he  had 
endured,  while  they  proclaimed  the  cessation  of  hostilities. 

"  Come  here,  Henry,  and  play  with  me — I  won't  stick  burrs 
in  your  hair — I  won't  spatter  ink  on  your  nice  ruffled  collar — 
I  won't  trip  you  down  in  running  and  make  your  nose  bleed !" 
They  might  have  omitted  all  this,  and  they  did  gradually  cease 
all  kind  of  torment,  leaving  the  boy  safe  behind  the  shielding 
influence  of  a  sister's  love  and  courage. 

Poor  Henry  !  his  father  was  so  anxious  that  he  should  be 
a  fine  scholar,  pass  through  College  with  distinction,  and  be- 
come distinguished  in  some  of  the  learned  professions !  It 
was  a  weakness  of  Col.  Fay,  the  only  one  he  had, — this 
extreme  desire  for  his  son  to  become  a  professional  man, — a 
learned  professional  man, — for  the  word  profession  is  now 
applied  indiscriminately  to  every  occupation.  He  gloried  in 
his  own,  and  would  not  have  exchanged  his  independent  mode 
of  existence  for  any  other.  Though  a  man  of  remarkable  intel- 
ligence and  clearness  of  mind,  and  extensive  reading,  he  had 
never  enjoyed  the  advantages  of  a  liberal  education,  and  was 
in  consequence  more  solicitous  to  secure  them  for  his  son. 
Ah !  if  Rena  had  only  been  a  boy,  what  a  scholar  she  would 
have  made  !  What  eloquence,  what  energy,  what  ambition 
would  have  been  hers!  Col.  Fay  could  not  help  thinking 
these  thoughts  sometimes;  but  what  would  he  have  done 
without  his  affectionate,  caressing  girl,  whose  intelligent  sym- 
pathy, idolizing  affection,  and  exuberant  gayety  were  the  joy 
and  sunshine  of  his  life  ?  He  would  not  have  changed  her 
into  a  Viy  for  all  the  world ! 

Mrs.  Fay  still  scolded  "  that  child"  for  her  romping  dispo- 
sition, and  tried  to  convince  her  that  she  was  getting  too  old 
to  ride  on  the  hay-cart,  or  to  play  with  snow-balls  and  slide  on 
the  ice  in  the  winter.  But "  that  child"  of  sunshine  and  free  air 
could  not  exist  out  of  her  native  elements.  When  she  returned 
from  school,  she  loved  to  get  her  darling  old  straw-hat,  and 


RENAJ   OR,   THE   SNOWBIRD.  69 

ramble  with  her  father  about  the  beautiful  farm ;  and  in  tho 
hay -making  season,  she  had  a  rake  of  her  own,  with  which  shr. 
flew  about  among  the  mown  grass  and  scattered  it  over  the 
heads  of  the  hay -makers.  To  the  horror  of  her  mother,  but 
with  the  permission  of  her  father,  she  even  learned  to  skate, 
and  no  bird  on  the  wing  could  excel  her  in  velocity,  or  ease 
of  motion. 

"  My  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Fay  to  her  husband,  in  her  eoft, 
complaining  voice,  and  inhaling  as  usual  the  odour  of  cam- 
phor, "  I  do  wish  you  would  not  encourage  llena  in  her  boyish 
ways.  I  am  afraid  I  never  can  make  a  lady  of  her.  You 
don't  think  how  old  she  is  growing.  She  is  twelve  years  old 
already." 

"  You  surely  don't  want  her  to  give  up  childish  exercises  now 
and  think  herself  a  woman,  do  you  ?  For  my  part,  I  think 
the  fine,  vigorous  constitution  she  is  acquiring  is  worth  all  tho 
fine  lady-graces  in  the  world.  Rena  never  was  sick  a  day  in 
her  life." 

"  I  did  not  think  you  would  reproach  me  in  that  way,"said 
his  wife,  faintly,  applying  the  saturated  handkerchief  to  her 
head.  "I'm  sure  it  is  not  my  fault  that  I  am  so  deli- 
cate, if  it  is  a  fault.  But  I  really  think  a  female  more  inte- 
resting who  is  rather  feeble,  than  one  who  is  too  strong  and 
robust." 

"You  know  I  meant  no  reproach  to  you,  Fanny — I  am 
incapable  of  that.  But  in  the  name  of  all  that's  rational,  let 
me  ask  you,  if  you  really  would  prefer  that  your  child  should 
be  a  weak,  helpless  invalid,  looking  interesting,  rather  than  a 
healthy,  happy,  and  useful  woman  ?" 

"I'm  sure  I'm  not  helpless,  if  I  am  weak,"  murmured  Mrs. 
Fay.  "  I  do  a  great  deal  of  sewing,  when  most  women  would 
lie  in  bed  and  do  nothing.  If  any  one  knew  what  I  suffer 
in  my  head,  and  heart,  and  back,  they  would  be  astonished 
that  I  could  sit  up  one  moment.  I've  tried  every  kind  of 


70  RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD. 

medicine  I  ever  heard  of,  and  it  does  me  no  good.  Oh  !  my 
poor  head  !  Don't  talk  so  loud  the  next  time  you  speak ; 
pray  don't." 

Though  Col.  Fay  had  heard  the  same  complaint  ten  thou- 
sand times  ten  thousand,  he  was  too  kind  and  compassionate 
to  turn  away  with  a  deaf  ear.  He  brought  the  camphor  bottle, 
and  moistening  anew  the  linen  that  bound  her  forehead, 
smoothed,  with  a  caressing  motion,  the  soft  brown  hair  that 
was  parted  oh  her  brow.  He  was  scarcely  conscious  how  Mrs. 
Fay's  infirmities  were  growing  upon  her,  in  consequence  of 
his  indulgence ;  how  she  gloried  more  and  more  in  the  cha- 
racter of  an  invalid,  and  how  her  soft  voice  was  gradually 
attenuating  itself  into  a  kind  of  whisper,  till  one  could  scarcely 
hear  her  speak  across  the  room.  He  was  accustomed  to  all 
this,  and  never  dreamed  of  any  other  state  of  things  as  it 
regarded  her,  but  he  was  not  weak  enough  to  allow  her  to 
influence  him  in  the  education  of  his  daughter,  so  as  to  de- 
prive her  of  the  glorious  prerogative  of  health.  He  was  even 
BO  devoid  of  taste  as  to  think  she  would  be  more  interesting 
with  rosy  cheeks,  elastic  limbs,  and  bounding  steps,  than  with 
pallid  complexion,  feeble  movements,  and  languid  voice.  He 
regretted  exceedingly  that  he  had  not  exercised  a  father's 
authority  over  Henry,  and  forced  him  from  the  still  life  he 
loved  too  well.  If  he  had  begun  with  him  ea/lier  he  might 
have  made  a  man  of  him ;  now,  he  had  many  misgivings. 

The  village  near  which  Col.  Fay's  farm  was  situated,  was 
only  a  division  of  a  large  and  beautiful  town,  not  thickly 
settled,  but  containing  many  elegant  residences  and  wealthy 
inhabitants.  It  had  none  of  the  temptations,  and  many  of  the 
refinements,  of  city  life,  and  was  thought  a  very  desirable  place 
for  young  gentlemen  to  prepare  for  the  university,  or  for  rusti- 
cated students  to  be  banished  when  they  had  violated  the  ma- 
jesty of  the  laws.  This  circumstance  greatly  enlivened  the 
quietude  of  the  place,  especially  in  the  winter  season,  when 


RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD.  71 

the  ground  was  covered  with  snow,  and  the  air  rung  from  morn- 
ing till  night  with  the  silvery  sound  of  bells,  mingied  with  the 
gay  laugh  of  childhood  and  youth. 

Rena  was  too  young  to  be  invited  to  the  parties  with  which 
these  wild  youth  were  often  honoured,  so  their  coming  and 
going  did  not  affect  her  in  the  least.  She  sometimes  met  them 
as  they  went  dashing  along,  with  half-a-dozen  strings  of  bells 
on  their  horses,  but  she  always  jumped  into  the  snow  by  the 
way-side,  however  deep,  to  avoid  coming  in  near  contact  with 
them.  She  was  as  shy  as  she  was  wild,  and  dreaded  the  sight 
of  a  stranger. 

It  was  about  this  time,  when  Rena  was  twelve  years  old, 
and  her  passion  for  skating  at  its  full  height,  that  there  never 
was  such  a  smooth,  magnificent  sheet  of  ice  as  covered  the 
meadow,  back  of  Col.  Fay's  house.  It  was  a  retired  spot,  and 
chosen  by  Rena  for  her  own  skating  ground,  where  Henry 
was  never  allowed  to  bring  any  intruding  boys.  A  thick  row 
of  trees  edged  it  on  one  side  and  formed  a  boundary  between 
it  and  the  river,  that  now  also  was  covered  with  ice,  which  the 
boys  and  young  men  appropriated  to  their  amusements.  Rena 
went  out  with  her  father  a  night,  as  cold,  and  clear,  and 
bright,  as  the  one  she  so  well  remembered  at  Sunny  Dell, 
when,  mounted  on  the  shoulder  of  Sherwood  Lindsey,  she  was 
borne  to%e  very  brink  of  death.  She  had  never  seen  hhn 
since,  and  that  was  six  years  ago ;  but  the  impression  made 
on  her  childish  imagination  was  not  obliterated.  His  ascend- 
ency over  the  other  boys,  his  boyish  gallantry  to  herself,  the 
danger  he  had  incurred,  his  bold  defiance  of  her  aunt,  in  de- 
fence of  an  insulted  father ;  even  his  parting  words  to  herself, 
"  that  he  would  see  her  again  in  spite  of  all  the  Aunt  Debbys 
in  the  world,"  were  treasured  up  in  her  memory.  She  had 
visited  Aunt  Debby  since,  but  saw  nothing  of  Sherwood. 
Then  she  heard  he  was  in  College,  and  she  hoped  when  tlonry 
39 


72  RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD. 

was  old  enough  to  enter,  she  might  possibly  learn  something 
through  him  of  her  old  friend. 

Col.  Fay  was  almost  as  fond  of  skating  as  his  wild  girl,  and 
in  youth  excelled  in  every  athletic  exercise  and  amusement. 
Labour,  however,  had  somewhat  stiffened  his  joints,  and  he 
could  not  keep  up  with  her  Atalantean  swiftness.  She  would 
fly  before  him,  dart  round  him  in  concentric  circles,  then  glide 
slowly  away,  gently  as  a  bark  on  a  placid  stream. 

"  Take  my  bonnet,  papa,"  said  she,  tossing  it  on  his  arm. 
"  It  covers  my  face  too  much." 

"  But  your  ears  will  freeze,  my  child.    Mine  tingle  already." 

"  Well,  this  will  protect  them,"  cried  she,  laughing ;  and 
taking  the  scarlet  woollen  tippet  from  her  neck,  wound  it  round 
her  head,  in  the  form  of  a  turban,  beneath  which  her  elf-locks 
sported  in  the  wintry  breeze.  Rena  was  not  beautiful,  but 
there  was  something  taking,  wild,  witch-like,  bewitching  about 
her.  She  thought  she  was  ugly  herself,  because  she  had  so 
often  heard  Henry's  beauty  praised  by  her  injudicious  mother, 
in  preference  to  her  own.  And  then  Stella  so  faultlessly 
beautiful — what  was  she  in  comparison  to  her?  But  little 
cared  she  about  her  looks,  as  long  as  she  was  an  object  of  love 
to  those  around  her.  She  never  dreamed,  when  she  twisted 
the  scarlet  band,  with  gipsy  wildness,  round  her  head',  that 
she  was  doing  anything  that  would  decorate  her  face.  She 
only  did  it  to  keep  her  ears  warm,  since  her  father  feared  they 
would  tingle  from  the  cold.  But  nothing  could  be  more  pic- 
turesque than  her  oriental  costume ;  and,  as  she  bowed  a  mo- 
ment before  her  father,  ere  commencing  again  her  arrowy 
flight,  he  could  not  help  wishing  some  one  was  by,  to  see  how 
charming  she  looked. 

"  I  am  going  to  the  river  a  moment,"  said  he,  "  to  see  if 
Henry  is  there.  You  are  not  afraid  to  be  left  alone,  a  little 
while,  Snowbird  ?" 

•'  Afraid !"  repeated  Rena,  laughing  and  kissing  her  hand 


RENAJ   OR,   THE   SNOWBIRD.  73 

to  him,  as  she  flew  away.  "  Afraid !  oh,  no."  Kena  wis  not 
afraid  to  be  alone  in  the  darkness  of  midnight — how  then 
could  she  fear  in  that  brilliant  hour,  when  if  she  looked  up  to 
heaven,  she  saw  the  moon  shining  down  upon  her  with  such 
an  angelic  smile;  if  she  looked  below,  she  beheld  the  same 
moon  looking  up  to  her  lovingly,  radiantly,  from  the  pure, 
glassy  surface  over  which  she  was  floating.  Of  what  should 
she  be  afraid,  with  that  talisman  in  her  young  bosom,  more 
powerful  than  the  amulets  of  the  East?  Fearlessly,  grace- 
fully she  glided  onward,  keeping  company  with  her  own  bright 
thoughts,  the  night  beams  quivering  coldly  on  her  brow.  She 
heard  the  sound  of  some  one  skating  behind  her,  and  thought 
she  would  warm  her  father  by  giving  him  a  race,  so  she  darted 
off  with  fresh  velocity.  "  Catch  me  if  you  can  I"  she  cried, 
turning  round  partly,  without  slackening  her  speed.  She 
thought  he  looked  less  tall  and  large  than  usual,  but  she  was 
dazzled  by  the  moonbeams  reflected  on  the  ice,  her  own  speed, 
and  the  oblique  position  from  which  she  beheld  him.  Onward 
she  went,  still  the  pursuer  gained  upon  her.  "  How  fast 
father  skates  I"  thought  she.  "  I  never  knew  him  fly  so  before. 
He  is  turning  into  a  boy  again."  Laughing  merrily  at  the 
idea  of  his  rejuvenation,  she  again  called,  "  Catch  me  if  you 
can  I"  while  the  ice  flashed  and  sparkled  in  diamonds  beneath 
her  glittering  skates.  But  fast  as  her  winged  feet  bore  her, 
faster  still  came  on  the  winged  feet  behind  her.  "  Poor  papa  I" 
thought  she.  "  He  will  be  so  tired  to-morrow,  and  then  I 
shall  laugh  at  him  so  much."  And,  panting  for  breath,  she 
felt  herself  fairly  overtaken,  for  the  arms  of  the  pursuer  were 
thrown  around  her,  a  musical  laugh  rang  in  her  ears,  and  a 
pair  of  young,  dark  eyes,  looked  triumphantly  into  her  own. 

"  Sprite,  Gipsy,  Snowbird,"  cried  the  conqueror,  "  I  have 
caught  you  at  last.  And  this,  by  all  the  rights  of  chivalry,  is 
my  reward."  Then  kissing  with  daring  gallantry  the  red 
cheek,  that  glowed  through  the  whiteness  of  the  night,  with  a 


<4  RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD. 

hue  almost  as  bright  as  the  scarlet  drapery  that  wreathed  her 
head,  he  added,  "  By  the  memory  of  Sunny  Dell,  forgive  me, 
I\cna !  Fou  are  still  but  a  child,  and  I  am  so  glad,  so  very 
glad  to  see  you  again." 

Though  Rena  was  but  a  child,  she  doubtless  ought  to  have 
b<vn  angry  at  the  boldness  of  the  youth,  whom  by  his  voice 
and  words  she  now  recognised  as  Sherwood  Lindsey.  And 
had  he  thus  greeted  her  in  the  public  street,  or  by  the  quiet 
fireside,  she  would  have  resented  it  as  too  great  a  freedom. 
But  there  was  such  freedom  around  them — that  sea  of  shining 
ice  below,  that  sea  of  shining  blue  above,  the  exhilarating  race 
they  had  just  ended — and  then  the  joy  of  seeing  him  again, 
so  unexpectedly,  so  strangely ! — if  she  forgot  to  be  angry,  let 
her  be  forgiven. 

"  I  thought  it  was  father,"  said  she,  after  expressing  her 
recognition  and  her  gladness  at  the  unlooked-for  meeting,  "  or 
I  should  not  have  given  such  a  challenge." 

"  I  should  like  to  see  your  father,"  answered  Sherwood, 
laughing.  "  He  must  be  a  gay  gentleman,  if  he  can  under- 
take to  race  with  you.  I  am  called  the  swiftest  skater  in  Col- 
lege, and  I  was  very  near  giving  up  the  chase  in  despair." 

"How  came  you  to  commence  it?"  said  Rena.  "Did 
you  know  me,  or  think  I  was  some  poor  spirit  that  had  lost 
its  way  ?" 

"  I  was  told  that  I  should  find  you  here,  when  I  went  on 
the  river  to  skate,  and  I  could  not  resist  the  temptation  of 
invading  your  boundaries.  How  little  you  are  altered!  I 
should  have  known  you  anywhere,  especially  if  you  looked  up 
in  my  face  once,  with  that  nondescript  pair  of  eyes.  Why, 
what  a  brave,  glorious  girl  you  are,  Rena !  I  would  not  give 
you  now,  for  as  many  city  belles  as  could  dance  on  this  broad 
ice.  But  you  had*forgotten  me,  forgotten  all  about  that  night, 
when  we  coasted  and  skated  together  at  Sunny  Dell,  when  I 
nearly  broke  your  poor  little  head  by  throwing  you  on  the 


RENAJ    OR,   THE   SNOWBIRD.  75 

ice,  and  Aunt  Debby  thawed  me  with  the  lightning  of  her 
wrathful  glances." 

"  Oh,  no,"  replied  Kena,  "  I  never  have  forgotten  that 
night.  This  very  evening  it  came  back  upon  me  so  freshly, 
so  strongly.  I  must  have  felt  you  were  near.  Perhaps  I 
should  not  have  known  you,  had  I  met  you  in  a  crowd,  for 
you  have  grown  so  tall,  so  manly."  And  the  eyes  of  the  wild 
skating  girl  looked  up  to  the  tall  boy  of  eighteen  years,  with 
that  velvet  softness  of  expression,  which  he  said  he  should 
have  recognised  all  the  world  over. 

"  There  is  father,"  cried  she,  observing  Col.  Fay,  emerging 
from  the  dark  shadow  of  the  trees  that  bounded  the  river. 
"  Let  us  go  and  meet  him.  How  could  I  have  taken  you  for 
him  ?" 

The  Colonel  looked  with  amazement,  on  seeing  his  young 
daughter,  skating  merrily  towards  him,  hand  in  hand  with  a 
very  distinguished-looking  young  man,  whom  he  had  never 
seen  before,  but  who,  from  her  bright,  happy  countenance, 
was  no  stranger  to  her. 

"  Papa,  this  is  Sherwood  Lindsey,"  cried  she.  There  was 
something  in  the  tone  of  her  voice,  which  implied  that  every- 
body in  the  world  ought  to  know  who  Sherwood  Lindsey  was. 

"The  son  of  the  Hon.  Mr.  Lindsey?"  asked  Col.  Fay, 
holding  out  his  hand  to  the  youth,  but  Rena  felt  that  her 
father's  manner  was  cold,  compared  to  its  usual  hospitable 
warmth,  and  she  grieved  iest  Sherwood  should  perceive  it. 

"  Yes,"  replied  Sherwood,  with  a  bow  of  graceful  respect. 
"  Has  my  father  the  honour  of  knowing  Col.  Fay  ?" 

"  I  knew  your  father  when  he  was  a  young  man,"  answered 
the  Colonel,  in  a  freezing  tone.  "  "We  have  never  met  since. 
I  can  hardly  realize  that  he  has  so  tall  a  son,"  he  added,  with 
more  affability  of  tone. 

"  My  father  looks  almost  as  young  as  I  do,"  said  Sher- 
wood ;  "  we  have  sometimes  been  taken  for  brothers." 

"The  resemblance  in  person  is  very  striking,"  said  Co! 


76  RENA;   OR,   THE   SNOWBIRD. 

Fay,  keenly  perusing  the  young  man's  face,  on  whose  cheek  a 
haughty  flush  was  gathering.  He  could  bear  the  flashing  anger 
of  Aunt  Debby  better  than  this  cold  politeness,  for  that  he  could 
resent.  He  thought  it  very  strange  that  a  man  like  Col.  Fay, 
who  looked  as  if  he  were  superior  to  petty  prejudices,  should 
allow  the  political  and  legal  differences  between  his  father  and 
Aunt  Debby  to  affect  his  conduct  towards  his  son. 

"  I  wish  I  possessed  my  father's  talents,"  said  he,  in  answer 
to  the  last  remark;  "I  could  not  have  a  better  passport  through 
the  world."' 

"  Talents  without  virtue  are  a  poor  inheritance.  But  I 
trust,  yo\mg  man,  you  are  the  possessor  of  both.  Come,  it  is 
too  cold  for  my  girl  to  stand  still  here,  when  the  air  cuts  like 
a  razor.  Will  you  walk  home  with  us,  and  get  warm  by  a 
farmer's  blazing  fire  ?" 

Rena's  eyes  sparkled  at  seeing  her  father  awakening  to  a 
gense  of  hospitality ;  but  Sherwood  declined  the  seat  by  the 
fireside,  though  he  told  Rena  he  would  accompany  her  in  her 
homeward  walk.  The  path  was  narrow,  cut  through  the  snow 
and  in  many  places  covered  with  ice.  Col.  Fay  walked  on 
before,  his  tall  form,  wrapped  in  a  dark  cloak,  serving  not  only  as 
a  guide,  but  a  shelter  from  the  keen  wind.  Sherwood  held 
Rena's  hand,  to  keep  her  from  sliding  down,  though  she  told 
him  she  never  had  fallen.  Sometimes  her  father  would  turn 
round  to  see  if  she  were  near,  and  Rena,  fearful  that  Sherwood 
•would  be  angry  at  his  scrutiny,  involuntarily  drew  closer  to 
him,  and  confided  herself  more  completely  to  his  care.  When 
they  reached  the  gate  fronting  the  house,  Sherwood  drew  back 
and  refused  to  enter. 

He  hesitated  a  moment,  aad  then  said,  with  a  frankness 
that  Rena  admired,  it  was  so  congenial  to  her  own  nature — 

"  Col.  Fay,  I  perceive  very  plainly,  that  you  are  prejudiced 
against  me  on  my  father's  account.  I  know  there  is  an  ancient 
feud  between  him  and  Mrs.  Wright,  the  full  merits  of  which 
I  never  knew.  Whatever  they  are,  you  cannot  wish  me  to 


RENA;  OB,  THE  SNOWBIRD.  77 

think  evil  of  iny  father,  and  I  am  sure  my  father's  son  is  not 
to  blame  for  events  that  may  have  occurred  before  his  birth. 
I  should  like  very  much,  sir,  to  take  a  seat  by  your  fireside, 
but  I  must  be  sure  of  a  welcome,  and  a  cordial  one,  too,  before 
I  court  its  warmth." 

"  You  are  right,  young  man — you  are  right,  and  I  was 
wrong  to  greet  you  coldly  as  I  did.  We  are  not  always  masters 
of  our  feelings ;  and  I  acknowledge  your  name  called  up  some 
very  unpleasant  recollections.  I  like  your  frankness.  Come 
in — you  shall  have  a  welcome,  and  a  warm  one,  too,  if  the 
sparks  that  fly  from  the  chimney  do  not  give  false  evidence." 

Thus  invited,  Sherwood  no  longer  hesitated,  but  followed 
Rena  into  an  apartment,  which,  though  very  different  from  his 
mother's  elegant  drawing-room,  was  very  neatly  and  genteelly 
furnished,  and  presented  an  appearance  of  truly  heart-cheering 
warmth.  Generous  was  the  fire  that  roared  in  the  chimney, 
for  Rachel  had  been  watching  for  the  return  of  the  skaters, 
and  piled  on  the  logs,  dry  from  a  summer's  housing.  Henry 
was  seated  by  the  hearth,  his  hair  as  smooth  and  glossy  as  if 
the  frosty  breath  of  night  had  never  blown  upon  it.  The 
heat  had  communicated  a  soft  glow  to  his  cheeks,  and  he 
looked  altogether  too  pretty  for  a  boy.  So  Sherwood  thought, 
as  he  looked  from  him  to  Rena.  So  Rena  thought,  as  she 
contrasted  the  delicate  lineaments  and  complexion  of  her 
brother  with  the  manly  brow  and  bold  bearing  of  Sherwood 
Lindsey. 

"  Come  to  the  fire,  Rena,"  said  Sherwood,  for  she  stood  in 
the  back  part  of  the  room,  wrapping  her  hands  in  the  little 
red  scarf,  that  had  already  acted  the  double  part  of  tippet  and 
turban. 

"  My  fingers  would  ache  too  much,"  answered  the  young 
philosopher,  "  if  I  brought  them  too  suddenly  near  the  fire." 

"  True,  I  forgot,"  said  he,  withdrawing  to  the  spot  where 
she  stood,  and  winding  the  said  elastic  scarlet  web  round  hia 
hands  also.  "  I  did  not  think  you  had  so  much  consideration  " 


78  RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD. 

Colonel  Fay  went  to  inquire  after  the  health  of  his  wi  fe 
who  always  kept  her  own  room  in  the  evening.  This  cour 
tesy  he  never  neglected,  after  an  absence  however  short. 
Finding  her  quietly  asleep,  he  sat  down  in  her  easy  chair  by 
the  fire,  and  thought  how  strange  it  was,  that  a  son  of  Herbert 
Lindsey  should  be  thrown  directly  across  his  path.  He  was 
vexed  with  himself  for  the  chilling  coldness  of  his  reception, 
and  admired  the  frank  and  genial  manners  of  the  youth,  which 
had  disarmed  his  prejudices.  If  there  was  a  man  in  the  world 
whose  character  he  detested,  it  was  Herbert  Lindsey,  and  he 
regretted  much  that  accident  had  brought  him  in  contact  with 
one  that  bore  his  rname.  Yet  he  could  not  be  guilty  of  injus- 
tice and  inhospitality,  or  from  the  fear  of  wounding  his  sister's 
feelings,  banish  from  his  household  a  youth  who  had  never 
wronged  him.  She  herself  had  said  "  the  Fays  never  were  a 
mean  race,"  and  that  would  have  been  the  height  of  meanness. 
Rena  too  would  have  thought  it  a  stain  upon  the  uprightness 
of  his  character,  and  she  had  such  a  clear  sense  of  right  and 
wrong,  that  young  as  she  was,  he  respected  her  judgment,  and 
often  appealed  to  her  opinion  on  subjects  of  moral  rectitude. 
If  she  were  older,  he  might  feel  some  uneasiness  on  account  of 
the  pleasure  she  evidently  felt  in  his  presence,  but  she  was 
nothing  but  a  child,  and  the  most  single-hearted  child  in  the 
universe.  Colonel  Fay  thus  reasoned  himself  to  such  a  per- 
fect state  of  composure  that  he  unconsciously  fell  asleep,  in  his 
wife's  comfortable  arm-chair,  while  Henry  stole  softly  to  bed, 
and  Rena,  ever  wakeful,  sat  with  Sherwood,  by  Rachel's  roar- 
ing fire,  listening  to  his  wild  histories  of  a  student's  life,  the 
daring  but  innocent  frolic  that  led  to  his  suspension,  and  the 
delight  he  felt  that  he  had  been  sent  into  banishment  to  the 
beautiful  village,  near  which  she  dwelt.  He  was  glad  to  find 
he  was  to  pursue  his  studies  under  the  same  master  who  taught 
her,  though  their  hours  of  study  were  different ;  glad  that  she 
was  studying  Latin,  reading  Virgil,  for  he  thought  Latin  the 
most  noble  study  in  the  world ;  so  grand,  so  expressive  and 


RENA;  OB,  THE  SNOWBIRD.  79 

sonorous  were  the  words,  so  rich  the  grammar  of  the  language 
His  respect  for  Rena's  understanding  was  evidently  increased 
by  the  knowledge  that  she  was  a  classical  student;  but  when 
he  learned,  as  he  afterwards  did,  from  her  instructor,  that  she 
was  the  best  Latin  scholar  in  the  academy,  he  thought  as  he 
did  when  he  saw  her  skating  more  fearlessly,  untiringly,  than 
any  boy  in  college,  that  "  she  was  a  glorious  girl." 

"  But  this  pretty  brother  of  yours,  Rena,"  said  he,  "  what 
a  sweet  little  fellow  he  is !  He  is  the  perfect  counterpart  of 
Stella  Lightner.  Why  didn't  you  take  Mm  to  the  skating 
ground  with  you  ?" 

There  was  a  slight  dash .  of  sarcasm  in  his  voice,  that  Rena 
did  not  like.  "  You  must  not  laugh  at  Henry,"  said  she, 
"  I  shall  not  like  you  if  you  do.  He  is  too  pretty,  too  quiet, 
too  good  for  a  boy.  I  don't  know  what  will  become  of  him  in 
college,  where  they  are  all  so  wicked  and  so  wild ;  for  I  cannot 
be  there  to  fight  his  battles  for  him,  as  I  do  at  school." 

"  But  /will,  Rena,  if  he  throws  himself  into  the  arms  of 
my  Alma  Mater,  before  I  leave  her.  I  did  speak  of  him  in 
a  mischievous  spirit  just  now ;  for  there  is  so  little  of  the  boy 
about  him,  I  could  not  help  smiling.  But  henceforth  he  shall 
be  sacred  to  me,  as  your  brother,  and  I  will  shield  him  from 
insult  and  persecution  as  if  he  were  my  own." 

The  young  champion  raised  his  head  and  looked  as  bravo 
and  protecting  as  any  old  knight  of  chivalry,  and  Rena  felt 
as  sure  of  Henry's  safety,  when  exposed  to  the  temptations  of 
the  world,  as  though  armed  legions  surrounded  him.  Sher- 
wood had  kept  possession  of  Rena's  little  red  scarf,  and  when 
he  rose  to  take  leave,  he  twisted  it  about  his  neck,  saying  he 
intended  to  bear  it  away  as  a  trophy  of  his  victorious  race. 

"  Wheli  you  are  a  young  lady,"  said  he,  "  and  we  meet  in 
the  great  world,  I  will  show  you  this  badge  of  triumph,  and 
tell  you  of  all  I  am  thinking  now." 

The  time  of  Sherwood's  suspension  was  a  happy  one  to  Rena. 
He  became  so  great  a  favourite  with  Colonel  Fay,  in  spite  of 


80  RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD. 

bis  being  tbe  son  of  the  Hon.  Mr.  Lindsey,  that  no  face  was 
so  welcome  to  his  fireside  as  that  of  the  rusticated  student. 
He  assisted  llena  in  her  Latin  lessons,  accompanied  her  and 
her  father  in  their  domestic  skating  excursions  and  moonlight 
sleigh-rides,  and  many  a  merry  game  of  snow-balls  did  he 
have  with  Rena,  under  the  leafless  branches  of  the  sycamore 
trees.  He  even  imparted  some  of  his  own  life  and  animation 
to  Henry,  who  was  sometimes  guilty  of  making  a  noise  in  the 
magnetic  presence  of  Sherwood,  loud  enough  to  call  upon  him 
bis  mother's  reproof;  for  though  Henry  was  now  fourteen 
years  old,  she  treated  him  like  a  weanling,  and  insisted  upon 
his  still  wearing  ruflled  collars,  and  unshorn  ringlets. 

We  will  not  linger  long  on  this  era  of  Rena's  life — she 
would  not  stay  a  little  child  to  please  us ;  and  though  the 
bright  dew-drops  of  morning  are  not  yet  exhaled  from  her 
spirit — though  she  is  still  a  pure,  fresh,  sparkling  creature, 
she  is  diflicult  to  manage.  She  is  that  amphibious  being,  be- 
tween a  woman  and  child,  that  does  not  belong  to  any 
peculiar  element;  a  thing  of  fire,  air,  earth,  and  water,  as  yet 
uuanalyzed ;  whose  constituent  principles  baffle  the  chemist's 
art.  Sbe  is  something  like  her  own  dark  hair,  which  is  too 
short  to  put  up  behind  with  a  comb,  and  too  long  to  fall  over 
the  brow,  and,  therefore,  has  no  abiding  place.  Though  Sher- 
wood Lindsey  says  she  is  a  "glorious  girl"  now,  we  think  she 
will  be  far  more  interesting  when  she  begins  to  fathom  the 
mysterious  depths  of  her  being;  when  the  master-spirit 
breathes  on  the  lyre-chords  of  her  heart,  and  the  blush  of 
dawning  passion  softens  the  glowing  bloom  of  adolescence. 

Farewell,  then,  for  a  little  while,  sweet,  wild  Rena—"  sprite, 
gipsy,  snowbird"  of  the  north.  May  thy  life  be  always  as 
smooth  and  shining  as  the  ice-plain  on  which  thy  young  feet 
love  to  sport ;  but  thawing  winds  will  sweep  over  the  surface, 
the  diamonds  will  melt  and  turn  into  darkness — and  then, 
sweet  bird  of  a  snowy  clime,  thou  must  fold  thy  wings  or 
spread  them  for  a  sunnier  land. 


CHAPTER  VII 

41  Acquaint  thee  with  thyself,  0  man !  so  shalt  thou  be  humble  : 
The  hard  hot  desert  of  thy  heart  shall  blossom  with  the  lily  and  the 

rose, 

The  frozen  cliffs  of  pride  shall  melt,  as  an  ice-berg  in  the  tropics ; 
The  bitter  fountains  of  self-seeking  be  sweeter  than  the  waters  of 

the  Nile. 

But  if  thou  lack  that  wisdom,  thy  frail  skiff  is  doomed, 
On  stronger  eddy  whirling  to  the  dreadful  gorge ; 
Untaught  in  that  grand  lore — thou  standest,  cased  in  steel, 
To  dare  with  mocking  unbelief  the  thunderbolts  of  Heaven." 

PROVERBIAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

A  DARK  and  handsome  man  sat  at  a  writing-desk,  sur- 
rounded by  the  illustrious  dead — not  in  coffin  and  shroud,  but 
in  gilded  cerements ;  not  enclosed  in  "  six  dark  boards,"  but 
in  two  little  sheets  of  pasteboard,  small  space  for  worlds  of 
immortality.  Yes !  surrounded  by  the  mighty  magicians  of 
past  ages,  silent  yet  eloquent,  still  yet  omnipotent,  whose 
thoughts,  by  a  magic  process,  were  transfused  with  electric 
speed  and  power  into  his  own  soul,  with  his  head  leaning  on 
his  hand  and  his  eyes  fixed  on  vacancy,  sat  the  haughty  mas- 
ter of  Belle vue,  the  Hon.  Herbert  Lindsey. 

Books  lay  piled  up  on  the  desk  on  which  he  leaned ;  books 
rising,  shelf  above  shelf,  till  they  reached  the  lofty  ceiling, 
lined  the  walls.  The  amphitheatrical  form  of  the  library,  and 
the  rich  heavy  curtains  of  dark-green  damask,  that  swept  back 
from  the  windows,  gave  an  air  of  antique  stateliness  to  the 
apartment,  congenial  to  the  taste  of  the  owner.  The  marble 
busts  of  Plato,  Socrates,  Pericles,  and  half  of  the  demigods 

(81) 


82  RENAJ   OR,   THI   SNOWBIRD. 

of  Greece;  cold,  white  effigies,  so  strangely  combining  the 
soul,  the  expression  of  life,  with  the  immobility  and  ghastli- 
ness  of  death,  were  placed  in  niches,  darkened  so  as  to  bring 
them  out  in  bolder  relief.  Everything  was  classic,  but 
nothing  more  classic  than  the  form  and  features  of  him  who 
vas  the  lord  of  the  scene. 

In  youth  Herbert  Lindsey  had  been  pre-eminently  handsome, 
and  now  in  the  full  meridian  of  life,  though  passion,  pride,  and 
ambition,  the  three  great  master  principles  of  his  nature,  had 
for  years  been  wrestling  in  his  bosom,  they  had  left  no  trace 
of  their  warfare  on  his  smooth,  lofty  brow,  or  silvered  with 
premature  frost  his  jetty  hair.  As  Time  "writes  no  wrinkles 
on  the  azure  brow  of  ocean,"  though  many  a  sad  wreck  is 
buried  in  its  bosom,  so  it  passed  over  his  polished  exterior, 
without  betraying  the  dark  secrets  that  lay  beneath.  Success 
had  followed — honours  crowned  all  his  public  deeds — wealth 
flowed  in  from  many  sources.  He  sat  in  the  high  places  of 
his  country's  glory,  and  his  eloquence  was  the  pride  and  boast 
of  his  native  state.  A  lovely  wife  presided  over  his  domestic 
palace  with  dignity  and  grace ;  and  a  son,  the  inheritor  of  his 
talents,  and  heir  of  his  fortune  and  name,  promised  fair  to 
perpetuate  its  honours.  But  as  the  statesman  sat  in  the  soli- 
tude of  his  study,  leaning  his  brow  upon  his  hand,  he  felt 
that  he  had  chosen  a  thorny  path,  and  that  the  labourer,  whom 
he  beheld  from  his  curtained  window,  quietly  guiding  his 
ploughshare  and  turning  the  glebe,  was  far  happier  than  he. 
There  was  a  gentle  knock  at  the  door ;  no  one  invaded  his 
sanctuary  without  this  communication  of  their  approach.  "  It 
is  Mrs.  Lindsey,"  he  said,  and,  without  rising,  he  bade  her 
enter.  She  came  and  stood  beside  her  husband,  a  fair,  pen- 
eive,  sweet-looking  woman,  on  whose  face  the  third  beatitude 
was  written  in  heavenly  characters.  He  motioned  to  a  chair. 

"Any  pressing  business,  Mrs.  Lindsey?"  said  he,  glancing 


KENAJ   OR,   THE   SNOWBIRD.  83 

at  the  massy  pile  of  books  at  his  side,  as  much  aa  to  say, 
"  you  see  I  am  very  busy." 

"  I  am  sorry  to  disturb  you.  I  know  how  precious  your 
time  is,  but  you  have  not  told  me  yet,  whether  I  might  receive 
thia  young  girl,  during  your  absence.  It  is  asked  of  me  as 
a  particular  favour,  and  I  do  not  see  how  I  can  with  any  grace 
refuse." 

"Who  is  she?  I  remember  your  asking  me  something 
about  this  before,  but  my  mind  was  occupied  by  other  themes, 
and  I  forgot  it.  Some  low  girl,  is  it  not  ?" 

"A  charity  girl,  but  not  necessarily  a  low  one.  She  was 
taken  from  the  almshouse  when  very  small,  and  brought  up 
by  the  private  benevolence  of  ladies  who  were  interested  in 
her  beauty  and  orphan  condition." 

"  Did  you  say  she  was  beautiful  ?" 

"Exquisitely,  remarkably  so." 

"A  pretty  companion  for  Sherwood,  when  he  returns  I" 

"  She  will  leave  me  before  Sherwood  arrives.  It  is  because 
he  is  absent,  that  I  prefer  her  at  this  time  a  member  of  my 
household.  I  was  in  Washington,  when  she  first  excited  the 
interest  of  the  community,  and  have  been  so  much  of  a  travel- 
ler since,  making  such  short  residences  here,  that  I  have  never 
yet  assisted  in  this  act  of  kindness.  Surely  I  ought  to  do  so, ' 
when  Heaven  has  given  me  such  bounteous  means." 

"  Send  her  this  purse  then,"  said  he,  throwing  one  on  the 
table,  "and  let  them  trouble  you  no  more  on  the  subject. 
Will  not  that  satisfy  you  ?" 

"Nay,  my  husband,"  cried  she,  gently  putting  aside  the 
money,  "  it  is  care,  tenderness,  example  that  she  needs.  So 
young  and  beautiful,  with  no  natural  guardians  to  protect  her, 
thrown  upon  a  world  so  full  of  temptation,  hew  sad  is  her 
destiny !  It  is  easy  to  give  money,  but  I  would  fain  give  far 
more  out  of  the  abundance  of  a  sympathizing  and  maternal 
heart." 


84  RENAJ   OB,   THE   SNOWBIRD. 

"  Well !  what  is  the  name  of  this  young  paragon  ?  Have 
I  ever  heard  it  ?" 

"  You  must  have  heard  it,  but  you  take  so  little  interest  in 
the  gossip  of  the  town,  you  have  not  heeded  it.  I  do  not 
recollect  her  mother's  name.  She  was  a  poor  girl,  who  died 
at  the  almshouse.  The  child  was  called  Stella,  by  some  ro- 
mantic lady,  who  was  charmed  by  the  brightness  of  her  eyes." 

"  I  think  there  is  more  than  one  romantic  lady  in  town. 
However,  do  as  you  please  about  the  girl — only,  remembet 
her  stay  must  fee  limited  to  the  period  of  Sherwood's  absence 
My  boy  shall  form  no  low  associations.  He  shall  never  be 
exposed  to  the  fascinations  of  a  base-born  charity  girl." 

"  As  you  leave  in  the  morning,  I  may  say  that  she  can 
come  to-morrow  ?"  meekly  inquired  Mrs.  Lindsey,  as  she  rose 
to  leave  the  apartment. 

"  Her  coming  or  going  can  make  no  difference  to  me — you 
may  send  for  her  to-night  if  you  please." 

The  votary  of  ambition  was  still  a  voluptuary  in  heart,  and 
though  too  proud  to  acknowledge  it,  his  curiosity  was  kindled 
by  the  vaunted  beauty  of  the  young  charity  girl.  Mrs.  Lind- 
eey  lingered  on  the  threshold,  looking  back  in  the  vain  hope 
of  meeting  one  glance  of  interest,  directed  towards  herself,  on 
the  remembrance  of  which  she  might  live,  during  months  of 
absence.  But  the  head  of  the  statesman  turned  not.  He 
had  already  drawn  towards  him  a  ponderous  volume,  and  ap- 
peared absorbed  in  its  contents.  She  softly  closed  the  door, 
passed  along  the  carpeted  passage,  that  gave  no  echo  to  her 
stilly  steps,  entered  her  own  room,  and  seating  herself  on  a 
luxurious  couch,  wiped  away  a  tear  that  would  steal  down  her 
pale  cheek.  It  was  foolish,  childish,  to  be  wounded  by  a 
coldness,  which  for  years  had  been  freezing  her  heart.  She 
could  not  expect  the  splendid  mind,  whose  powers  a  nation 
claimed,  would  bring  down  its  lofty  thoughts  to  hers.  She 
ought  not  to  have  intruded  upon  him  in  a  sanctuary,  which 
fqw  dared  invade,  but  she  feared  to  take  any  steps,  beyond  the 


BENA;  OB,  THE  SNOWBIRD.  85 

usual  circle  of  her  domestic  duties,  unsanctioned  by  his  will. 
Meek,  gentle,  and  unresisting,  she  yielded  with  Eastern  sub- 
mission to  his  haughty  sway,  proud  of  his  talents,  his  reputa- 
tion and  rank,  but  sighing  in  secret  over  chilled  affections 
and  a  lonely  heart. 

The  next  morning,  the  carriage  of  Mr.  Lindsey  rolled  down 
the  sloping  lane,  that  led  from  Bellevue  to  the  public  road. 
Through  the  tall,  dark  poplars  that  margined  it,  the  light 
flashed  dazzingly  on  the  face  of  the  Senator,  who  drew  his  hat 
farther  over  his  brow.  He  abhorred  an  excess  of  light,  as  the 
heavy  curtains  that  shaded  every  window"  of  his  house  indi- 
cated. As  he  reached  the  gateway  and  the  coachman  descended 
to  unbar  it,  he  saw  a  young  person  standing  outside,  waiting 
for  the  carriage  to  pass,  whom  he  immediately  recognised  from 
description,  as  the  beautiful  charity  girl.  If  any  wonder  should 
be  expressed  that  he  had  never  seen  her  before,  let  it  be  re- 
membered that  he  passed  most  of  his  time  in  Washington,  and 
when  at  home,  had  no  more  to  do  with  his  plebeian  neighbours 
than  the  President  himself.  Stella,  now  in  the  spring-time  of 
sixteen  years,  stood  modestly  waiting  at  the  rich  man's  gate  j 
a  gipsy  straw-hat  shading,  but  fully  revealing  her  face,  aud  the 
morning  sunbeams  playing  resplendently  on  the  golden  mirror 
of  her  hair.  Mr.  Lindsey  bent  forward  and  fixed  upon  tho 
young  girl  a  gaze  too  intense  for  mere  admiration.  It  was  dark 
and  troubled.  For  one  moment,  it  seemed  that  a  chasm  opened 
before  him,  threatening  to  draw  him  into  the  abyss,  then  it 
closed,  and  he  stood  on  the  opposite  brink,  in  the  midst  of  the 
verdure  and  flowers  of  youth,  before  passion  or  ambition  had 
fastened  her  vulture  clutches  on  his  heart.  Suddenly  the  verdure 
and  flowers  all  faded,  and  dim  ghosts  of  the  past  flitted  before  his 
eyes ;  a  cold  moisture  gathered  slowly  on  his  temples,  but  still 
his  eagle  glance  was  strained  on  the  charity  girl  waiting  by  the 
gate.  Shrinking  at  length  before  this  dark  scrutiny,  sho 
curtsied  low,  and  attempted  to  glide  by  the  wheel. 


86  RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD. 

"  Stop !"  said  he,  in  a  voice,  of  whose  sternness  he  was  not 
aware;  "are  you  the  young  girl  whom  Mrs.  Lindsey  expects 
this  morning  1" 

"  Yes,  sir,"  she  answered,  trembling  beneath  an  eye  whose 
lightnings  had  scathed  bolder  brows  than  hers. 

"  Wait,  then,  and  take  this  note  to  her,"  said  he,  opening 
his  pocket  book  and  scribbling  a  few  lines  on  the  back  of  a 
letter,  which  he  tore  off  hastily.  Searching  for  a  wafer,  he 
sealed  it,  threw  it  from  the  carriage,  and  bade  the  coachman 
drive  on.  He  had  scarcely  gone  five  paces  before  he  regretted 
he  had  not  commanded  the  girl  to  return  and  never  appear 
within  the  limits  of  Bellevue.  Could  he  have  done  so  without 
compromising  his  dignity,  without  giving  some  reason  for  his 
apparently  maniac  conduct,  he  would  have  driven  her  from  his 
home,  the  neighbourhood,  the  town.  It  was  not  without  re- 
morseful feelings  he  thought  of  her  fair,  beauteous  form,  and 
the  destitution  of  her  lot.  The-remembrance  of  another  beau- 
teous form,  so  closely  resembling  hers,  awakened  by  her  pre- 
sence from  the  slumber  of  years,  haunted  him  like  an  avenging 
ghost.  "  But  it  may  not  be,"  thought  he,  "  resemblances  are 
often  accidental.  It  must  ever  remain  a  mystery,  for  if  I  should 
make  inquiries  it  would  excite  suspicion,  and  my  name  must 
never  be  associated  with  degradation.  Poverty,  death,  and  the 
almshouse — sad,  sad  combination  !" 

Folding  his  arms,  and  leaning  back  in  his  carriage,  as  far 
as  he  could  withdraw,  he  breathed  a  deep  and  heavy  sigh.  We 
remember,  when  a  little  child,  some  one  telling  us  that  every 
sigh  brought  away  with  it,  a  drop  of  the  heart's  blood.  If 
this  be  true,  such  a  sigh  as  Mr.  Lindsey  breathed,  so  full  of 
remorse  and  anguish,  must  have  exhausted  a  thousand.  He 
met  the  school-children  with  their  green  satchels  and  smiling 
sunny  faces,  tripping  along  in  the  sunshine.  It  is  their  custom, 
in  New  England,  to  curtsy  and  bow,  with  lowly  reverence,  to 
all  whom  they  meet,  and  it  is  a  beautiful  sight  to  see  childhood 


EENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD.  87 

thus  doing  homage  to  maturity  and  age.  He  could  not  but 
observe  how  coldly  this  courtesy  was  paid  to  him.  The  smiles 
faded  from  their  young  lips,  and  sullen  constraint  took  their 
place.  He  was  the  enemy  of  their  sports.  He  had  banished 
them  from  a  beautiful  green  lawn  near  the  school-house,  because 
it  was  his  ground,  and  therefore  must  be  set  apart  as  conse- 
crated to  pride.  What  harm  could  they  do  by  running  across 
the  grassy  plain  ?  The  brush  of  their  light  feet  only  gave  a 
fresher  tint  to  the  herbage ;  the  birds  sung  more  merrily  in  the 
boughs,  when  their  laughter  went  up  on  the  air.  Perhaps  he 
thought  this,  as  his  stately  carriage  rolled  along  through  these 
future  lords  of  the  land,  and  conscience,  roused  by  a  sudden 
and  startling  revelation,  sat  in  triumph  on  its  oft-deserted 
throne. 

He  passed  Sunny  Dell,  reposing  at  the  foot  of  the  guardian 
mountain,  in  all  the  richness  of  its  summer  garniture.  He 
thought  of  the  now  harsh  and  independent  mistress  of  the 
place,  and  remembered  the  time  when  he  knew  her  a  gay, 
handsome,  light-hearted  belle,  whose  young  affections  he  had 
won  with  so  much  art  and  toil,  and  whom  he  had  deserted  so 
treacherously  and  heartlessly  for  a  fairer,  wealthier  bride. 
Then  he  thought  of  that  lovely  bride,  ,that  neglected  wife,  so 
gentle,  fond,  and  submissive,  now  receiving  to  her  home,  to 
her  arms  and  heart,  in  the  loving-kindness  and  tender  mercy 
of  her  generous  nature,  one,  who— but  why  should  he  dwell 
on  that  ?  He  knew  not  who  she  was — and  the  grave,  her- 
metically sealed,  revealed  not  the  secrets  deposited  in  its  cold 
and  silent  bosom.  Truly,  the  thoughts  of  the  proud  Senator 
were  not  merry  companions. 

Stella  stood  under  the  shelter  of  a  spreading  rose-bush  till 
the  sound  of  the  carriage  wheels  died  on  the  ear.  She  looked 
up  to  the  house,  whose  green  blinds  were  still  unclosed,  and 
she  saw  not  a  being  moving  about  the  enclosure.  She  looked 
down  upon  the  note  which  she  held  in  her  hand,  and  which 
40 


RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD. 

she  fully  believed  had  some  connexion  with  herself.  The 
seal  was  still  wet — she  could  open  and  reclose  it,  without  fear 
of  discovery,  and  drawing  back  deeper  among  the  rose-boughs, 
she  loosened  the  moist  wafer,  and  read  the  contents.  These 
were  the  few  words  addressed  to  his  wife  : — 

"  Remember  the  conditions  I  imposed.  The  time  must  be 
limited  within  the  possibility  of  his  return.  If  the  slightest 
intercourse  be  allowed,  on  your  head  be  the  consequences, 
however  direful  they  may  be." 

Stella  thought  she  understood  the  drift  of  these  lines.  She 
was  to  be  banished  from  Bellevue  before  the  return  of  the 
eon  and  heir  j  for  all  intercourse  between  him  and  the  child 
of  poverty  must  be  for  ever  prohibited.  A  vindictive  smile 
curled  her  lip,  while  she  resolved  to  baffle  his  foresight;  and 
triumphing  in  the  consciousness  of  that  beauty  which  had 
excited,  at  one  glance,  the  fears  of  the  father,  she  determined 
to  remain  and  exert  its  full  influence  on  the  heart  of  the  son. 
She  had  obtained  the  fulfilment  of  one  of  her  most  ardent 
desires,  admission  to  the  home  of  Sherwood  Lindsey.  She 
trusted  to  opportunity  and  her  own  powers  to  accomplish  all 
her  wishes. 

The  sweet  mistress  of  Bellevue  received  the  young  charity 
girl  with  all  the  tenderness  of  a  mother,  and  Stella  was  all 
gratitude,  humility,  and  modesty.  She  never  seemed  to  forget 
her  lowly  origin,  though,  such  was  the  refinement  and  grace 
of  her  manners,  it  was  difficult  for  others  to  remember  it. 
She  watched  for  every  opportunity  of  usefulness,  and  studied 
Mrs.  Lindsey's  slightest  wishes,  so  that,  if  possible,  she  might 
anticipate  them.  Mrs.  Lindsey  loved  flowers,  and  every  morn- 
ing her  vases  were  decorated  with  robes  and  blossoms,  "  per- 
fumed with  fresh  fragrance  and  glittering  with  dew."  She 
loved  to  have  some  one  comb  and  brush  her  long  hair,  before 
retiring  to  her  nightly  rest.  Stella  delighted  in  this  office, 
and  nothing  could  be  more  gentle  and  soothing  than  her 
touch.  Weeks  passed  away — and  the  young  girl  became  «verj 


RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD.  89 

day  more  endeared  to  her  hostess,  and  more  necessary  to  her 
happiness.  "  Poor  girl  I"  thought  she,  as  she  gazed  with 
growing  admiration  on  her  fair,  young  face;  "if  you  were 
less  lovely,  you  would  be  less  dangerous,  and  I  might  keep 
you  ever  with  me,  to  fill  a  daughter's  place  in  my  heart." 

There  was  a  picture  of  Sherwood,  taken  just  before  he 
entered  College,  which  occupied  a  conspicuous  place  in  his 
mother's  apartment.  It  was  a  full-length  portrait,  and  exe- 
cuted with  great  spirit  and  fidelity.  The  boy  was  represented 
in  the  open  air,  standing  by  the  side  of  a  beautiful  pony, 
with  one  foot  raised  ready  to  mount  the  animal,  over  which 
his  right  arm  was  carelessly  and  gracefully  thrown.  There 
was  life,  beauty,  boldness,  expression,  in  the  picture,  which 
gave  to  immortality  Sherwood's  springing  youth.  It  was  the 
altar-piece  where  the  fond  mother  paid  her  daily  devotions. 
Stella  never  failed  to  place  a  vase  of  beautiful  flowers  beneath 
it,  whose  breath  of  odour  rose  as  incense  to  this  young  house- 
hold divinity. 

"When  will  your  son  return ?"  she  asked  with  apparent 
carelessness,  of  Mrs.  Lindsey.  "  Is  he  not  in  Europe  ?" 

"  Yes — he  has  been  travelling  for  a  year  with  a  private 
tutor ;"  she  replied,  in  answer  to  the  last  question.  To  the 
first  she  said — "  I  expect  him  in  a  few  months." 

"  How  proud  you  must  be  of  him ! — how  anxious  to  behold 
him !  Ah !  how  happy  must  those  be  who  have  parents  to 
love  and  idolize  them  !  Had  I  a  mother,  and  such  a  mother  !" 
Stella  bent  her  head  on  the  white  hand  of  Mrs.  Lindsey  and 
pressed  her  lips  upon  it. " 

"  And  in  a  few  weeks  I  must  banish  this  sweet  girl  from 
me  I"  thought  the  lady,  twisting  her  fingers  in  the  bright 
tresses  that  floated  in  lustrous  beauty  over  her  lap.  "  I  must 
send  her  to  some  uncongenial  home,  where  she  will  probably 
be  treated  with  harshness  or  indifference.  Oh  !  that  I  could 
adopt  her  as  my  own  child  I" 


00  RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD. 

The  reception  of  a  packet  of  letters  interrupted  the  flow  of 
her  compassionate  feelings. 

"  Ah !  one  from  Sherwood !  this  is  an  unexpected  pleasure  I" 
She  opened  it  hastily.  "  Here,  in  a  few  days  ! — can  it  be 
possible  ?  Listen,  Stella — Sherwood  is  coming — in  a  few  days, 
instead  of  months,  he  will  be  with  me." 

Tears  of  joy  gushed  from  her  eyes.  With  the  enthusiasm 
of  a  girl,  who  receives  tidings  from  a  long-absent  lover,  she 
pressed  the  letter  to  her  lips,  then  again  eagerly  perused  its 
contents.  Stella  remembered  the  note  she  had  surreptitiously 
read — she  remembered  the  words,  "  the  time  must  be  limited 
within  the  possibility  of  his  return  j"  and  knowing  that  the 
crisis  had  arrived,  the  colour  forsook  her  cheeks. 

At  the  sight  of  her  sudden  pallor,  Mrs.  Lindsey  recollected 
her  husband's  parting  commands,  and  the  thought  of  the  pain 
she  must  inflict  on  the  innocent  girl,  saddened  the  exuberance 
of  her  joy.  She  shrank  from  the  ungracious  office  before  her, 
but  her  own  judgment  told  her  that  her  husband's  decision 
was  right,  and  that  Sherwood  must  not  be  domesticated  with 
the  beautiful  orphan. 

"  Stella,  my  sweet  girl,"  said  she,  the  next  morning,  put- 
ting her  arms  kindly  round  her,  "  I  grieve  that  I  must  part 
with  you ;  but  the  time  for  which  you  were  placed  under  my 
care  is  now  expired.  I  shall  probably  leave  here  soon  after 
my  son's  return.  At  some  future  day,  I  trust  you  will  again 
find  your  home  with  me.  In  the  mean  time,  believe  me  your 
friend,  anxious,  tender,  and  loving,  Stella.  You  have  beguiled 
many  a  lonely  hour.  You  have  literally  strewed  roses  in  my 
path."  She  looked  at  the  sweet  flowers  blooming  beneath  the 
glowing  semblance  of  her  boy,  and  kissed  the  cheek  fair  as 
the  floral  offerings. 

"  You  have  been  so  kind,  so  more  than  kind,"  sobbed  Stella, 
gliding  fiom  her  chair  and  burying  her  face  in  Mrs.  Lindsey 'ft 
lap.  «  How  can  I  ever  leave  you !  Oh !  Mrs.  Lindsey,  let 


RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD.  91 

me  stay !  Let  me  be  your  servant ! — let  me  live  in  your 
kitchen  !  I  shall  be  happier  there  than  in  any  parlour  in  the 
land  1  Dear,  sweet  Mrs.  Lindsey,  only  let  me  stay !" 

Poor  Mrs.  Lindsey  !  her  heart  was  sadly  troubled  !  It  was 
so  hard  to  resist  that  earnest,  pleading  voice  j  those  tearful, 
starry  eyes.  But  the  dread  of  her  husband's  anger  !  that  was 
as  a  flaming  sword,  flashing  before  her  eyes,  guarding  her 
promise. 

"  My  dear  child  I"  cried  she,  trying  to  raise  her  from  her 
lowly  position,  "  think  me  not  unkind.  You  shall  return  to 
me ;  but  now,  there  are  reasons  which  I  cannot  explain,  that, 
forbid  your  longer  stay.  Did  I  follow  the  dictates  of  my  own 
heart,  you  should  never  leave  me,  Stella — never !" 

"  Thank  you,  thank  you,  madam,  for  all  your  goodness  V 
cried  Stella,  rising  and  folding  her  hands  meekly  on  her 
breast.  "  I  will  leave  you  to-morrow,  to-night,  this  very  mo- 
ment, if  you  desire  it !" 

"  No,  no,  not  to-night.  To-morrow  will  be  soon  enough  ; 
too  soon  for  my  wishes,  dear  child !" 

Stella  acknowledged  her  sense  of  this  permission  by  a  low 
and  graceful  curtsy,  and  left  the  apartment.  The  moment 
she  was  alone,  the  expression  of  her  countenance  changed. 
Instead  of  the  downcast,  Virgin  Mary  look  she  had  just  worn, 
there  was  bitterness  and  anger  and  cunning.  Alas  !  that  one 
so  beautiful  and  young  should  be  so  guileful  and  designing. 

"  It  is  thus  I  have  ever  been  treated,"  murmured  she  to 
herself,  "  petted  for  a  little  while,  and  then  discarded,  because 
I  am  poor — -poor  !  A  child  of  the  almshouse.  But  I  have  a 
power,  and  I  will  use  it.  A  power  to  which  riches  and  rank 
bow  down.  I  will  stay  till  their  proud  son  comes.  I  will  not 
be  sent  away  the  moment  they  hear  his  foot  is  to  cross  the 
threshold.  An  old  crone  whom  I  met  the  other  day,  who  lives 
at  the  poor-house,  my  native  home,  said,  that  she  dreamed  that 
I  married  a  rich  man,  and  rode  in  my  carriage,  and  so  I  will 
as  sure  as  my  name  is  Stella  Lightnei." 


02  RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD. 

This  was  not  a  point  of  such  certainty  as  to  make  the  oath 
a  very  binding  one,  but  the  strength  of  Stella's  resolution  was 
more  powerful  than  her  words.  She  stole  softly  up  stairs  and 
opened  a  little  closet,  contiguous  to  Mrs.  Lindsay's  sleeping- 
chamber,  a  kind  of  domestic  cabinet,  where  was  a  suite  of 
small  drawers,  devoted  exclusively  to  medicine.  Stella  had 
frequently  been  sent  by  Mrs.  Lindsey  to  this  receptacle,  and 
ghe  knew  all  that  it  contained.  She  knew  what  medicines  could 
be  taken  with  impunity,  and  what  caused  the  most  deadly 
languor  and  sickness,  without  exposing  one  to  danger.  With- 
out a  moment's  hesitation  she  swallowed  a  nauseating  potion 
of  tartar-emetic,  carrying  away  a  double  quantity  to  her  room, 
to  repeat  the  dose,  if  necessary,  to  produce  the  desired  effect. 
She  might  have  feigned  sickness,  but  the  rosy  transparency  of 
her  skin  would  betray  the  healthful  current  flowing  beneath. 
A  physician  might  be  summoned,  whose  keen  eye  would  detect 
the  artifice.  Now  he  might  come,  and  she  would  defy  the 
investigation.  Returning  to  the  room  she  had  left,  she  sat 
down  by  Mrs.  Lindsey,  and  asked  her  in  a  subdued  and  patient 
tone  of  voice,  if  she  might  have  the  privilege  of  reading  aloud 
to  her  once  more. 

"  My  dear  girl,"  said  Mrs.  Lindsey  kindly,  "  you  look  pale, 
I  fear  you  are  not  well.  You  had  better  not  fatigue  yourself." 

Stella  took  up  the  book  with  a  sickly  smile,  and  began  to 
read.  The  excited  state  she  was  in,  when  she  took  the  medi- 
cine, caused  its  effects  to  be  more  speedily  felt,  and  already  it 
was  circulating  through  her  system,  inducing  faintness,  dizzi- 
ness, and  the  most  deadly  nausea.  Frightened  at  the  success 
of  her  daring  stratagem,  fearful  lest  she  had  swallowed  by  mis- 
take some  poisonous  draught,  and  that  she  had  exposed  herself 
to  suffering  and  perhaps  death,  she  uttered  a  faint  cry  and  fell 
back  upon  the  sofa.  Her  eyes  were  closed,  and  there  was  no 
more  hue  upon  her  face  than  a  snow-drift.  In  great  alarm, 
Mrs.  Lindsey  rang  the  bell,  then  bending  over  Stella,  raised 


RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD.  93 

her  head  on  her  arm,  and  pressed  hei  Mps  on  her  cold  forehead. 
It  was  well  she  had  called  in  the  assistance  of  a  servant.  A 
terrible  fit  of  retching  and  vomiting  came  on,  prostrating  her 
so  completely,  she  was  carried  to  her  bed  in  a  state  of  passive 
weakness.  Having  in  vain  endeavoured  to  check  the  deadly 
nausea,  Mrs.  Lindsey  sent  for  their  family  physician,  who, 
though  a  man  of  remarkable  eminence  in  his  profession,  had 
not  the  gift  of  omniscience,  and  certainly  had  no  conception 
of  the  dose  she  had  swallowed.  As  the  vomiting  continued, 
with  excessive  faintness,  he  administered  morphine,  in  a  small 
quantity,  leaving  powders  for  her  to  take  during  the  night. 
Mrs.  Lindsey,  who  believed  her  cruel  refusal  to  retain  her  in 
her  household  had  given  such  a  shock  to  her  nervous  system 
as  to  bring  on  this  sudden  and  alarming  illness,  in  an  anguish 
of  tenderness  and  self-reproach,  hung  over  her  beautiful  and 
suffering  charge.  She  had  a  couch  removed  to  her  bed-side> 
and  insisted  upon  administering  the  opiates  with  her  own  hand. 
Stella  had  indeed  taken  a  master  dose,  and  it  was  not  till  she 
had  swallowed  all  the  powders  the  doctor  prescribed,  that  she 
obtained  rest  from  the  billowy  heavings  which  had  tussed  her 
so  relentlessly.  She  dared  not  refuse  the  prescriptions  pre- 
sented by  Mrs.  Lindsey' s  own  hand,  though  she  feared  every 
potion  would  be  her  last.  Cold  dew  stood  on  her  trembling 
limbs,  while  her  brain,  excited  by  the  morphine,  seemed  crossed 
by  fibres  of  fire,  as  well  as  her  hot  and  blood-shot  eyes.  Terri- 
fied at  the  thought  of  becoming  delirious,  and  betraying  the 
secret  of  her  duplicity,  she  pressed  her  hand  upon  her  aching 
brow,  begging  them  to  bathe  it  in  cold  water,  to  relieve  ita 
burning.  She  was  asleep  when  the  doctor  came  in  the  morn- 
ing, but  the  low  whispered  conversation  between  him  and  Mrs. 
Lindsey,  close  at  her  bed-side,  awakened  her.  She  lay  without 
opening  her  eyes,  listening  to  the  remarks  of  her  medical  coun- 
sellor, terrified  at  the  course  he  was  recommending. 

"  Her  brain  is  evidently  affected,"  said  he ;  "  there  is  great 


94  RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD. 

internal  heat ;  we  must  apply  blisters.  I  am  sorry  for  it,  but 
we  shall  be  under  the  necessity  of  shaving  her  head." 

"  What,  her  beautiful  hair  ?  oh  no,  Doctor  !  try  any  other 
remedy.  It  would  be  too  great  a  sacrilege.  Spare,  if  possi- 
ble, these  luxuriant  ringlets."  Mrs.  Lindsey  passed  her 
fingers  through  the  locks  that  were  scattered  like  sunbeams  on 
her  pillow.  Stella  resolved  to  die  before  allowing  such  a 
sacrifice.  She  determined,  if  the  doctor  did  approach  her  for 
such  a  purpose,  she  would  feign  madness,  of  the  frantic  kind, 
and  make  him  glad  to  avoid  so  dangerous  a  proximity. 

"  Well,  we'll  try  the  effect  of  leeches  first." 

So  Stella,  grateful  for  the  salvation  of  her  hair,  and  think- 
ing the  principle  of  non-resistance  the  best  in  her  present 
position,  was1  obliged  to  lie  for  hours  with  the  cold,  slimy  crea- 
tures feeding  on  her  white  temples,  her  imagination  picturing 
the  hideous  little  animals  bloated  with  her  blood.  A  night 
of  calm  sleep  composed  her  feverish  brain,  and  the  morning 
found  her  very  weak,  but  pronounced  free  from  all  danger  of 
inflammation  of  the  brain.  She  was  very  careful  of  com- 
plaining of  anything,  apprehending  some  desperate  remedy, 
and,  in  two  or  three  days,  she  was  able  to  sit  up  in  an  easy 
chair,  at  an  open  window,  and  drink  in  the  sweet  influences 
of  the  summer  day.  But  the  summer  day  nad  no  sweet  influ- 
ences for  her.  There  is  an  alchemy  that  can  change  the  blue 
glory  of  the  sky,  and  the  green  glory  of  the  grass,  and  the  cool 
balminess  of  the  air,  into  mere  cold,  dull  abstractions ;  and 
though  Stella's  eyes  were  fixed  on  these  magnificent  realities, 
her  soul  took  them  not  in.  She  was  thinking  of  the  coming 
of  Sherwood.  If  he  delayed  much  longer,  and  she  recovered 
entirely  from  her  indisposition,  what  plea  could  she  urge  for 
remaining  longer  ?  what  new  stratagem  could  she  invent  to 
impose  on  her  too  credulous  and  trusting  hostess  ?  A  strong 
feeling  of  reveng3  towards  Mr.  Lindsey,  a  desire  to  triumph 
ove*  Kena,  whom  she  had  always  associated  with  Sherwood 


RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD.  95 

since  the  moonlight  coasting  and  skating  night  at  Sunny  Peil, 
personal  admiration  of  Sherwood  himself,  nourished  by  the 
daily  contemplation  of  his  picture,  and  a  hope,  a  determin- 
ation of  self-aggrandizen-ent,  filled  the  bosom  of  Stella.  - 

Mrs.  Lindsey  sat  near  her,  looking  down  the  avenue  with 
anxious  eye,  watching  for  the  coming  of  her  son.  As  her 
fears  for  Stella  subsided,  her  dread  of  her  husband's  anger 
returned ;  and  though  she  would  not  for  worlds  have  breathed 
a  thought  to  the  young  invalid  suggestive  of  such  an  idea, 
her  departure  was  the  first  and  most  ardent  wish  of  her  heart. 
Yes !  greater  than  her  desire  for  her  son's  return.  Yet  weeks 
would  probably  pass  before  she  could,  without  positive  un- 
kindness,  be  transferred  to  another  home. 

A  carriage  stopped  at  the  gate,  and  while  the  coachman 
was  unbarring  it  for  the  passage  of  the  horses,  a  young  man 
sprang  out,  vaulted  over  the  fence,  and  ran  up  the  lane. 

"  'Tis  Sherwood — my  son  !"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Lindsey,  and 
with  a  step  as  fleet  as  Stella's,  she  vanished  from  the  room. 
But  Stella's  fleet  steps  were  now  pinioned  and  doomed  to  re- 
main passive  in  her  chair.  She  gazed  upon  the  young  man 
so  rapidly  approaching,  whose  identity  his  mother's  rapturous 
exclamation  had  just  proved.  Raising  his  eager,  animated 
eyes  to  the  window,  he  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  fair  appari- 
tion reclining  there,  and  with  a  lingering  step  he  lifted  his 
hat,  bowing  and  smiling,  with  such  a  radiant  expression, 
Stella's  cheek  blushed  crimson  with  delight.  The  joy  of 
return  was  in  his  heart,  on  his  lips,  in  his  eyes,  and  a  familiar 
face,  less  fair  than  hers,  would  have  been  greeted  with  rap- 
ture. Then  he  vanished  from  her  gaze,  and  Stella  was  left  to 
imagine  the  fond  embraces  that  greeted  him  on  the  threshold. 
A  natural  feeling  of  regret  for  her  own  brotherless,  sisterless, 
unconnected  situation  softened  the  asperity  of  her  feelings. 
She  wished  she  was  Sherwood's  sister,  that  she  too  might  fly 
to  greet,  and  throw,  without  shame  or  censure,  her  arms  of 


96  RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD. 

welcome  round  him.  She  thought  if  she  had  such  a  brother 
to  take  her  kindly  and  protectingly  by  the  hand,  and  shield 
her  from  the  scorn  and  contumely  of  the  world,  her  heart 
would  be  full  of  good  and  gracious  influences,  and  all  her 
schemes  of  cold  and  selfish,  policy  would  be  crowded  out.  It 
was  one  of  those  angel  moments,  that  come  like  the  breath  of 
the  sweet  south  wind,  "  stealing  and  giving  odour."  Tears 
gathered  softly,  slowly  into  her  eyes,  and  fell  drop  by  drop 
upon  her  cheek.  Then,  she  thought  of  a  love,  dearer  than  a 
brother's,  and  how  happy  life  must  be  to  those,  whose  hearts, 
twined  together  by  links  of  roses,  mingle  in  fragrance  and 
beauty,  till  life  becomes  one  sweet  identity.  Unfortunately, 
the  vanity,  which  praises  of  her  personal  loveliness  had  nur- 
tured, whispered  but  of  one  means  to  secure  that  love.  Ris- 
ing, she  drew  near  a  large  mirror  that  adorned  the  chamber, 
and  gazed  upon  the  image  reflected  from  its  surface.  Me- 
thinks,  there  was  a  soft  rustling  sound,  like  the  spread  of 
departing  wings,  for  the  angel  moment  was  gone.  It  might 
have  been  the  waving  of  the  silken  curtain,  or  the  fluttering 
of  the  leaves,  or  the  light  fall  of  her  muslin  robe — but  it  is 
certain,  the  guardian  spirit,  that  watched  with  such  trembling 
hope  those  crystal  drops,  fled  away  grieved — from  the  thoughts 
that  it  saw  dimming  the  disk  of  the  mirror. 

A  beautiful  moral  is  embodied  in  one  of  the  stories  of  the 
Arabian  Nights.  One  of  the  genii  gives  a  glass  to  a  young 
man,  who  has  sought  their  aid,  and  tells  him,  whenever  he 
sees  a  young  maiden,  however  fair  and  innocent  she  might 
appear,  not  to  judge  by  the  spotlessness  of  the  exterior,  but 
to  look  upon  the  crystal  talisman.  If  the  translucent  orb 
became  dim  by  her  breath,  there  was  a  want  of  purity  within. 
Long  the  young  man  searches  for  the  maiden  with  unpolluted 
breath  in  vain,  and  is  about  to  return  the  talisman  in  despair, 
when  he  at  last  finds  one,  whose  gentle  respiration  steals  over 
the  mirror,  and  turns  to  sunbeams  there. 


CHAPTER  Vin. 

"  Oh !  my  son,  my  son ! 

We  will  not  part  in  wrath ! — the  sternest  hearts, 
Within  their  proud  and  guarded  fastnesses, 
Hide  something  still,  round  which  their  tendrils  cling 
With  a  close  grasp,  unknown  to  those  who  dress, 
Their  love  in  smiles.     And  such  wert  thou  to  me, 
The  all  which  taught  me,  that  my  soul  was  cast 
In  Nature's  mould."  VESPERS  OP  PALERMO. 

STELLA,  still  in  the  interesting  character  of  an  invalid,  was 
sitting  in  the  lower  piazza,  by  the  side  of  Mrs.  Lindsey,  while 
Sherwood,  standing  against  one  of  the  pillars,  played  care- 
lessly with  the  honeysuckle  vine,  that,  twining  round  the 
upper  part,  drooped  over  his  head.  There  was  not  the  slight- 
est breath  of  air  stirring.  The  tall  poplars,  piercing  the 
heavens  with  their  lance-like  summits,  stood  with  immovable 
foliage,  like  green  petrifications,  and  even  the  light  leaves  of 
the  rose-bushes  seemed  holding  their  fragrant  breath,  so  still 
were  their  slender  petioles.  The  clouds,  that  had  been  floating 
white  and  fleecy  before  the  mid-day  sun,  now  melting  off  into 
a  web  fine  as  the  down  of  the  gossamer,  then  becoming  more 
opaque,  and  assuming  the  form  of  glittering  scales,  the  silver 
laminae  of  heaven, — were  now  rolling  downward,  following  the 
declivity  of  day,  and  gathering  in  darkening  masses  round  the 
western  sun.  Dark  and  heavy  at  their  base,  but  crowned  witU 
dazzling  rose-tints,  that  deepened  here  and  there  into  glorious 
crimson,  scarlet  and  gold,  they  leaned  forward,  over  the  undu- 
lating horizon,  with  a  grandeur  and  grace  that  belong  only  to 

(97) 


98  RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD 

these  "  warriors  of  the  storm,"  the  heralds  of  the  "  thunder- 
drum  of  heaven." 

"  There  will  be  a  thunder-shower  soon,"  said  Mrs.  landsey, 
with  a  slight  shudder.  "  I  knew  one  was  approaching,  by  the 
oppression  of  the  atmosphere." 

"  Do  you  fear,  my  mother  ?"  asked  Sherwood,  who  was  gaz- 
ing with  kindling  eye,  through  those  golden  vistas. 

"  I  do  not  exactly  fear,  but  I  feel  an  indescribable  awe,  a 
presentiment  of  coming  evil,  a  dread  indefinite  and  mysterious. 
I  cannot  describe  it." 

"  Strange !"  said  Sherwood,  "  There  is  nothing  in  nature  I 
love  so  much  as  a  thunderstorm.  I  feel  then,  a  strength  and 
power  that  seems  to  sleep  at  other  times.  I  could  battle  with 
the  elements  and  make  them  my  vassals.  I  could  run  up  the 
rugged  peaks  of  the  clouds  and  catch  hold  of  the  lightning's 
chain.  You  smile,  mother,  as  if  you  doubted  my  words,  but 
I  do  actually  feel  as  if  I  could  do  this,  and  far  more." 

"  Bold,  extravagant  boy !  I  hope  you  will  not  try  so  dan- 
gerous an  experiment." 

Sherwood  looked  at  Stella,  and  turning  as  he  did  from  the 
dark  cloud  to  her  face,  the  contrast  was  so  sudden,  so  striking, 
it  seemed  to  shine  with  the  beauty  of  an  angel.  Sickness  had 
imparted  a  kind  of  languishing  softness  to  her  countenance, 
and  enhanced,  if  possible,  the  transcendant  fairness  of  her 
complexion.  She  was  dressed  in  white,  for  Mrs.  Lindsey,  if 
not  wisely,  at  least  kindly,  clothed  her  in  garments,  more  con- 
genial to  her  own  taste  and  Stella's  beauty,  than  her  station  in 
life.  Sherwood,  who  remembered  her  as  a  little  girl,  in  coarse 
calico  frocks,  whom,  with  cultivated  aristocracy,  he  looked  down 
upon  as  the  poor-child  of  the  almshouse,  had  never  before 
been  fully  aware  of  the  uncommon  character  of  her  loveliness. 
It  flashed  upon  him  as  something  celestial,  and  he  wondered 
he  had  not  been  more  impressed  by  it.  Stella  met  his  fixed 
and  admiring  glance,  and  hopes,  which  a  few  moments  before 


RENA;  on,  THE  BNOWBIRD.  99 

were  faint  and  flickering,  became  strong  and  triumphant.  A 
rosy  cloud  covered  her  face,  and  added  to  it  a  thousand  new 
charms.  Mrs.  Lindsey  noticed  all  this,  and  never  had  her  hus- 
band's prohibition  and  threatened  wrath  assumed  so  terrible  a 
character  to  her  imagination.  Should  he  come  and  find  her 
there,  find  them  together  after  his  warnings  both  spoken  and 
written,  how  dark  would  be  his  anger  !  And  yet  how  could 
she  have  prevented  it  ?  She  could  not  have  turned  the  poor 
girl  dying  from  her  door.  She  could  call  in  the  evidence  of 
the  physician  to  prove  her  sickness,  and  apparently  dangerous 
condition.  But  still  this  would  not  appease  her  husband's  re- 
sentment, for  she  might  have  obeyed  him  more  implicitly  than 
she  had  done.  She  might  have  taken  Stella  by  the  hand  and 
told  her  kindly  and  frankly,  the  interdiction  given  and  the 
reason  too.  She  might  have  told  her  that  the  Hon.  Mr.  Lind- 
sey  did  not  choose  his  son  to  associate  with  any  but  the  honour- 
able of  the  land.  She  was  not  obliged  to  clothe  her  in  white 
and  becoming  robes,  to  adorn  her  loveliness,  or  to  bring  her 
down,  as  she  had  done  that  evening,  in  compassion  for  her 
loneliness  and  dejection,  into  the  presence  of  her  son.  She 
was  a  gentle,  tender,  loving  woman,  and  she  could  not  have 
acted  otherwise,  without  violating  the  holiest  principles  of  her 
nature,  but  she  was  a  meek,  timid,  irresolute  one,  and  she  shrunk 
from  the  consequences  of  her  conduct,  with  a  dread,  which 
guilt  only  ought  to  feel. 

Stella  showed  at  this  moment  the  strong  will,  that  can  make 
the  physical  elements  its  vassals.  She  had  an  unusual  ter- 
ror of  electric  power,  and,  had  she  followed  the  instinct  of  her 
nature,  she  would  have  fled  to  her  chamber,  scared  by  the  light- 
ning that  now  darted  forth  from  the  bosom  of  the  cloud,  like 
the  tongue  of  fiery  serpent.  But  Sherwood  loved  such  scenes, 
and  she  too  would  remain  and  look  with  rapture  on  the  sub- 
lime phenomena,  and  share  his  exultation.  Sherwood  entreated 
hi*  mother  to  go  in,  where  she  would  not  be  exposed  to  the 


100  REN AJ    OR,   THE   SNOWBIRD. 

blinding  flashes,  but  there  was  a  species  of  fascination  mingled 
with  her  awe,  that  drew  her  glance  to  the  firmament,  though 
the  next  moment  it  was  sure  to  be  covered  with  terror.  Amid 
the  distant  rolling  of  the  thunder,  the  sound  of  carriage  wheels 
was  not  distinguishable,  and  though  they  stopped  at  their 
gate  they  knew  it  not,  as  their  faces  were  turned  in  a  different 
direction.  A  gentleman  was  near  the  steps  of  the  piazza,  before 
they  were  aware  of  his  approach,  for  he  walked  on  the  grassy 
side-walk,  and  his  steps  made  no  sound. 

"My  father!"  exclaimed  Sherwood,  springing  down  the 
steps  and  seizing  both  hands  in  the  joy  of  meeting. 

Mr.  Lindsey  held  his  son's  hand  with  a  grasp  of  steel,  and 
while  he  ascended  the  long  flight  of  steps  he  thus  held  him, 
looking  steadily  in  his  face,  while  a  gleam  of  joy  and  pride 
lightened  the  darkness  of  his  own,  like  the  lightning  on  the 
cloud  over  his  head.  Mrs.  Lindsey  rose  to  meet  him,  but  her 
trembling  limbs  could  scarcely  support  her.  All  that  she  had 
been  dreading  was  written  on  his  dark  and  flashing  counte- 
nance. 

"  You  did  not  expect  me,  madam,"  said  he,  without  taking 
the  tremulous  hand  she  extended — "  my  coming  seems  to  have 
disturbed  you.  Congress  suddenly  adjourned  for  a  short  time, 
and  I  hastened  home  to  welcome  my  son.  I  did  not  expect 
to  find  intruders  here — I  did  not  expect  to  find  my  absolute 
commands  violated." 

"  Come  with  me,  my  husband,"  she  cried,  laying  her  hand 
entreatingly  on  his  arm ;  "  I  will  explain  everything.  I  have 
not  wilfully  acted  contrary  to  your  will." 

"And  what  was  my  will,  madam?"  he  exclaimed,  losing 
sight  of  every  restraint,  in  the  blaze  of  his  anger.  "  Did  not 
I.  command  you  to  send  this  girl  from  you,  before  the  possi- 
bility of  my  son's  return  ?  Was  not  this  the  condition  on 
which  she  entered  these  doors  ?  How  happened  all  this,  I 


EENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD.  101 

Bay,  if  you  did  not  mean  to  brave  my  authority  and  dare  my 
anger  ?" 

Mrs.  Lindsey  sunk  down  on  the  seat  she  had  quitted,  and 
covered  her  face  with  both  hands.  Sherwood  stepped  for- 
ward, and,  placing  himself  in  front  of  his  mother,  with  a  pale 
and  resolute  countenance,  looked  steadfastly  in  his  father's 
face 

"  I  am  sorry  to  hear  you  speak  to  my  mother  in  this  man- 
ner, sir.  It  is  unworthy  of  you.  I  cannot  allow  my  own 
father  to  forget  that  he  is  a  gentleman." 

As  the  Senator  beheld  the  youthful  figure  of  his  son,  inter- 
posing itself  as  a  shield  before  the  sinking  form  of  her  whom 
his  wrath  was  withering,  a  thrill  of  admiration  at  his  moral 
courage  and  noble  bearing  penetrated  his  soul.  But  the 
thrill  was  transient — his  anger  abiding. 

"Beware,  rash  boy!  forget  not  the  respect  due  to  your 
father!" 

"  Let  him  remember  what  is  due  to  himself,  and  he  shall 
never  complain  of  a  want  of  filial  reverence." 

"  Mrs.  Lindsey,  follow  me  to  the  library — I  would  speak 
with  you  alone.  Sherwood,  go  into  the  house.  I  forbid  your 
remaining  here.  And  as  for  this  girl,  let  me  tell  her,  that 
the  home  she  left  for  this  is  a  far  more  fitting  residence  for 
her." 

"  I  am  no  longer  a  boy,  nor  will  I  be  ordered  like  one !" 
cried  Sherwood,  folding  his  arms  and  flashing  defiance  from 
his  dark  eyes. 

"Oh!  Sherwood,  for  my  sake,  for  your  mother's  sake, 
Sherwood,  obey  your  father !"  cried  Mrs.  Lindsey,  clasping 
her  hands  in  agony  at  a  scene,  beyond  her  worst  fears. 

"  For  your  sake,  mother,  I  would  do  anything — die,  if  need 
be ;  and  would  I  had  died  before  I  had  lived  to  see  the  day 
when  I  trembled  to  leave  a  mother  exposed  to  a  father's  angry 
passions !" 


102  RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD. 

The  bitter  anguish  of  his  tone  struck  to  the  very  heart  of- 
the  Senator,  and  recalled  him  to  a  sense  of  his  own  dignity. 
He  felt  something  as  the  inebriate  feels,  when  the  fumes  of 
intoxication  roll  away,  leaving  nothing  but  a  consciousness  of 
degradation  and  shame.  He  had  allowed  his  passions  to 
master  him,  and  he  was  humbled  in  his  own  eyes.  He  did 
not,  however,  swerve  from  his  purpose  any  more  than  the 
surgeon  who  winds  his  silk  handkerchief  around  the  steel  that 
is  to  cut  into  the  quivering  flesh. 

Stella,  who  had  risen  .on  his  entrance,  and  remained  a  silent 
spectatress  of  the  tempest  she  had  herself  roused,  felt  a  kind 
of  vindictive  joy  in  this  acknowledgment  of  her  power, — this 
strange  tribute  to  her  wondrous  beauty.  When  Sherwood 
threw  himself  before  his  mother,  dauntlessly  bearding  the  lion 
in  his  lair,  in  the  brave  beauty  of  youthful  heroism,  she  gazed 
upon  him  with  passionate  admiration.  As  for  the  scorn  and 
contempt  of  the  father,  she  repaid  it  with  bitterness  and 
hatred,  and  a  spirit  of  vengeance  took  possession  of  her, 
terrible  in  one  so  young.  She  resolved  to  yield  to  his  com- 
mands, to  go  that  moment,  in  the  face  of  the  coming  storm, 
certain  that  Sherwood  would  feel  an  interest  in  her  fate,  as 
the  victim  of  his  father's  cruelty,  that  she  could  not  excite  bjr 
remaining  with  his  permission  under  his  roof.  She  dared  not 
wrestle  openly  against  the  strong  man's  iron  will,  but  she 
determined  to  corrode  and  eat  away  his  power  in  secret,  like 
the  consuming  rust. 

It  is  astonishing  how  much  more  fearful  is  moral  than  ele- 
mental strife.  All  this  time  the  lightning  had  been  darting 
more  vividly,  the  thunder  rolling  deeper  and  nearer,  and  yet 
they  heeded  it  not.  At  least  none  but  Stella,  who  had  wrought 
herself  for  the  part  she  was  going  to  act.  Turning  to  Mr. 
Lindsey,  with  an  air  which  would  have  made  the  fortune  of  a 
debutante,  she  said,  without  quailing  at  his  stern  glance — 

<;  I  am  going,  sir — nor  would  I  have  stayed  till  this  moment 


RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRP.  103 

had  not  sickness  prevented  my  departure.  Your  kind  lady 
would  not  throw  me  across  the  threshold,  when  I  had  not 
strength  to  walk  over  it.  I  would  not  stay  another  hour  be- 
neath your  roof,  sir,  if  I  knew  the  lightning  would  strike  me 
dead  by  the  way-side  1" 

Then  taking  Mrs.  Lindsey's  hand  and  kissing  it,  and  curt- 
sying gratefully  to  Sherwood,  she  ran  down  the  steps,  which 
were  already  wet  with  the  large,  splashing  drops  that  fell  from 
the  edge  of  the  thunder-cloud. 

"  Stop  her  I"  cried  Mrs.  Lindsey.  "  Husband,  for  the  love 
of  heaven  and  your  own  soul,  do  not  drive  her  away  in  this 
etorrn !  She  has  been  so  sick  !  If  she  dies,  God  will  judge 
you  for  it  I" 

"  Bid  her  return  till  to-morrow,  then.  7  did  not  drive  her 
away,"  muttered  he.  Sherwood  sprang  forward  to  detain 
her,  but  his  father's  strong  arm  arrested  him — 

"  Leave  it  to  your  mother,  sir.    It  is  no  business  of  yours." 

"  But  she  goes,  sir !  She  reaches  the  gate !  My  mother 
must  not  go  out  in  the  rain  !  It  will  not  become  you  to  run 
after  her !  I  must  go  !"  And  breaking  loose  from  his  father, 
who  felt  the  truth  of  his  words  too  keenly  to  contradict  them, 
he  flew  after  the  fugitive,  whose  white  dress  was  fluttering 
through  the  gate.  It  evidently  required  eloquence  and  some 
force  to  induce  her  to  return,  for  she  clung  to  the  gate,  even 
after  Sherwood  brought  her  back,  and  endeavoured  to  release 
herself  for  a  second  flight.  She  ascended  the  steps  with  a 
reluctant  air,  looking  proudly  at  Mr.  Lindsey  as  she  passed  by. 

"  Go  right  to  your  room  and  change  your  wet  dress,"  said 
Mrs.  Lindsey.  "  I  tremble  for  the  consequences  of  this  ex- 
posure. Oh !  Stella,  do  not  keep  me  in  this  state  of  agitation, 
but  go." 

"Only  at  your  request,  your  command,  madam,"  said 
Stella,  slowly  entering  the  house. 

"  We  had  better  all  go  in,"  cried  Mr.  Lindsey,  when  the 
41 


104  RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD 

sound  of  Stella's  retreating  footsteps  were  heard  no  longer. 
"  The  rain  will  melt  us  here  I" 

Mrs.  Lindsey  mechanically. acted  on  her  husband's  sugges- 
tion, and  the  father  and  son  were  left  alone. 

"  I  suppose  I  may  remain  here  now,  sir  1"  said  Sherwood, 
throwing  himself  on  a  seat.  "  I  am  sheltered  from  the  rain, 
and  I  love  to  gaze  upon  the  storm." 

Mr.  Lindsey  walked  backward  and  forward  the  whole  length 
of  the  piazza,  several  times,  with  slow  steps,  then  went  up  to 
his  son  and  laid  his  hand  upon  his  shoulder — 

"Sherwood!" 

"Sirl" 

"My  son!" 

"  Father !" 

"  My  son" — there  was  a  slight  tremulousness  in  his  voice. 
The  hand  laid  upon  the  shoulder  lifted  itself  to  the  dark  locks 
that  were  rustling  in  the  storm-breeze — "  this  is  an  unplea- 
sant meeting  after  more  than  a  year's  absence." 

"It  is,  sir." 

"  You  have  shown  great  love  and  reverence  for  your  mother, 
and  I  honour  you  for  it.  If  I  have  appeared  harsh  and  pas- 
sionate, beyond  reason,  I  have  a  cause,  which,  if  known, 
would  explain  all,  if  it  did  not  justify.  More  I  cannot  say ; 
but  this  I  am  constrained  to  utter,  for  I  would  not  forfeit  the 
respect  of  my  son." 

"  Father,  if  you  knew  half  the  respect,  the  veneration  I  bear 
you,  half  the  anguish  I  suffered,  when  I  thought  you  forgetful 
of  your  high  character — "  The  voice  of  the  young  man  choked. 
He  rose  and  turned  away  to  conceal  his  emotion ;  then  with 
an  instinct  of  nature  wholly  irrepressible,  bowed  his  head  on 
his  father's  shoulder,  whose  arm  now  encircled  his  neck. 
Never,  perhaps,  had  the  proud  statesman  been  so  completely  un- 
manned. Sherwood  was  his  hope,  joy,  and  pride,  the  one  being 
he  loved  better  than  himself,  the  Elisha  on  whom  the  mantle 


RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD.  105 

of  his  talents  and  fame  must  fall.  But  man  soon  conquers  the 
weakness  to  which  woman  yields,  at  least  such  a  man  as  Mr. 
landsey.  He  led  the  way  into  the  house,  where  his  wife 
awaited  them,  with  pale  cheeks  and  a  sinking  heart.  In  his 
then  softened  mood,  her  meek  and  suffering  countenance 
affected  him  painfully.  He  was  generally  cold  and  arbitrary, 
but  never  had  he  allowed  his  passions  to  trample  on  her  feel- 
ings so  lawlessly  before.  He  went  and  sat  down  by  her,  and 
took  the  hand  that  lay  passive  on  the  arm  of  the  sofa.  "  I 
have  been  too  hasty,  Emily !  Forgive  me !" 

That  simple  act,  those  few  words,  turned  as  by  magic  the 
whole  current  of  her  feelings.  The  mere  sound  of  her  Christ- 
ian name  coming  from  his  lips,  fell  like  music  on  her  ear. 
She  longed  to  throw  herself  on  his  neck,  to  lean  upon  his 
bosom,  to  tell  him  of  the  love  that  had  survived  coldness, 
indifference,  and  harshness,  to  assure  him  of  her  submission 
to  his  wishes,  whatever  they  might  be.  But  she  dared  not 
do  it.  She  feared  to  extinguish  this  little  gleam  of  tender? 
ness  so  precious  to  her  heart.  She  was  so  humble,  had  so 
little  self-appreciation,  she  justified  all  his  neglect  by  com- 
paring her  waning  beauty  and  feeble  attractions  with  the 
splendour  of  his  yet  unfaded  manhood.  She  only  pressed  the 
hand  that  held  hers,  and  tried  to  speak,  but  could  not. 

"  Perhaps  you  had  better  go  and  see  if  the  girl  needs  any 
care.  I  would  not  keep  you  from  it,  Emily." 

Again  he  had  called  her  by  the  once-loved  name  of  Emily. 
Grateful  for  the  permission  to  do  what  her  heart  prompted, 
she  quitted  the  room,  but  as  she  closed  the  door,  looked  back 
upon  him  with  a  smile  of  reconciliation  so  lovely,  that  it 
lighted  up  her  wan  features  with  something  of  the  brightness 
of  their  primeval  beauty.  The  eyes  of  the  father  and  son  fol- 
lowed her  departure,  then  turning  from  the  door  their  glances 
met. 

"Yes/'  said  the  first,  answering  the  glance,  for  no  word 


106  REN  A;   OR,   THE   SNOWBIRD. 

had  been  spoken,  "  if  evil  falls  on  me,  she  will  have  a  pro- 
tector far  kinder  and  more  devoted  than  I  have  ever  been. 
But,  Sheiwood,"  added  he,  assuming  some  of  his  usual  state- 
liness,  "  we  must  understand  each  other  fully.  Never  let  the 
scene  of  to-day  be  renewed.  I  have  looked  upon  you  as  a  boy 
heretofore,  I  now  place  confidence  in  you  as  a  man.  There 
must  be  no  intercourse  between  you  and  the  girl  now  under 
your  mother's  protection.  Three  hours  ago,  I  would  have 
extracted  a  binding  promise  from  you ;  now  I  trust  to  your 
honour." 

"  There  shall  be  no  voluntary  intercourse  on  my  part,  fa- 
ther," replied  Sherwood,  after  a  pause,  which  sent  the  blood 
to  his  own  temples,  and  drew  it  from  his  father's  face,  for  the 
colour  forsook  his  very  lips,  while  he  witnessed  the  mental 
struggle  of  his  son. 

"  Sherwood,  do  you  hesitate  ?" 

"  I  will  obey  you,  as  far  as  I  can,  sir,  without  compromis- 
ing my  character  as  a  gentleman  and  a  man.  If  I  should 
meet  this  unfortunate  girl  in  circumstances  that  appealed  to 
my  protection  and  required  my  aid,  every  feeling  of  chivalry 
and  honour  would  be  enlisted  in  her  behalf.  Then  and  then 
only  should  I  feel  justified  in  departing  from  the  letter  of  your 
prohibition.  The  spirit  of  it  breathes  from  my  own  lips  at 
this  moment !  I  know  it !  I  feel  it !" 

"You  feel  an  interest  stronger  than  I  imagined  on  this 
subject,"  cried  Mr.  Lindsey,  his  pale  brow  darkening,  while 
his  piercing  eyes,  fixed  upon  his  son,  seemed  to  read  the 
lowest  depths  of  his  heart. 

"  She  is  young,  beautiful,  and  unprotected,  and  I  pity  her, 
but  I  have  too  much  of  my  father's  spirit  ever  to  think  of 
allying  myself  with  one  of  low  connexions  or  doubtful  line- 
age. Any  other  interest  you  cannot  think  me  base  enough  to 
cherish." 


RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD.  107 

Mr.  Lindsey  caught  his  son's  hand,  and  pressed  it  with  a 
strength  of  which  he  was  not  aware. 

" I  am  satisfied,"  said  he ;  "I  trust  you.  My  happiness, 
my  honour,  is  safe  in  your  keeping." 

Drawing  a  deep  inspiration,  as  if  a  heavy  load  were  rolling 
upward  from  his  breast,  he  induced  Sherwood  to  speak  of  his 
journey,  his  impressions  of  the  past  and  hopes  and  plans  for 
the  future,  till  the  agitation  of  both  subsided,  and  the  cause 
that  created  it  seemed  forgotten. 

That  night,  when  Sherwood  was  alone  in  his  room,  on  open- 
ing a  trunk  which  he  had  not  unpacked  since  his  return,  for 
a  book  he  had  placed  in  it,  he  saw  gleaming  beneath  the  folds 
of  white  linen,  the  scarlet  trophy  he  had  won  from  the  wild 
skating  girl,  and  which  he  had  carried  with  him  to  foreign 
lands.  He  had  not  seen  her  since,  a  rusticated  student,  ho 
was  associated  with  so  many  of  her  gladdening  winter  exer- 
cises and  fireside  pleasures.  Their  paths  had  widely  diverged, 
but  he  always  felt,  that  there  was  a  strong,  magnetic  sympa- 
thy, which  would  draw  them  together  again,  though  sundered 
as  far  as  pole  from  pole.  He  took  up  the  soft  relic  and  laid 
his  cheek  on  the  warm,  elastic  wool.  He  thought  of  the  young 
Snowbird,  skimming  the  glittering  ice,  with  her  glowiug 
crown,  defined  like  a  crescent  of  fire  on  the  silver  firmament. 
He  wondered  how  it  would  look,  above  the  soft  gilding  of 
Stella's  rippling  hair — scarlet  and  gold,  the  mingling  hues  of 
royalty.  He  compared  the  waxen  delicacy  of  Stella,  with  the 
ardent  hue  of  Rena's  sun-dyed  cheek ;  the  starry  brightness 
of  Stella's  sapphire  eyes,  with  the  velvet  softness  and  dark- 
ness of  Rena's. 

Then  he  reflected  on  the  strange  and  harrowing  incidents 
of  the  day;  the  mysterious  earnestness  of  his  father's  prohi- 
bition, which  he  nevertheless  attributed  to  the  towering  pride 
which  distinguished  him  among  all  men ;  on  the  sad  destiny 
of  the  poor  charity  girl,  whose  singular  beauty  seemed  her 


108  RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD. 

greatest  crime,  till,  forbidden  as  he  was  to  manifest  the  pity 
and  sympathy  of  his  young,  chivalrous  nature,  she  grew  in 
romantic  interest  on  his  imagination.  Gradually  all  these 
images  formed  a  strange  combination.  The  scarlet  tiara 
adorned  his  father's  senatorial  brows.  His  mother  was  ska- 
ting on  a  sea  of  glass.  Ilcna  and  Stella  had  exchanged  eyes, 
and  what  a  wonderful  change  did  it  make  in  their  faces  !  He 
was  asleep,  carelessly  extended  on  the  carpet,  his  trunk  his 
pillow,  the  red  band  of  Eena  encircling  his  neck. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

"  I  saw  two  beings  in  the  hues  of  youth 
Standing  upon  a  hill,  a  gentle  hill, 
Green  and  of  mild  declivity — the  last 
As  'twere,  the  cape,  of  a  long  ridge  of  such, 
Save  that  there  was  no  sea  to  lave  its  base, 
Bat  a  most  living  landscape,  and  the  wave 
Of  woods  and  cornfields,  and  the  abodes  of  men 
Scattered  at  intervals,  and  wreathing  smoke 
Arising  from  such  rustic  roofs — 
These  two,  a  maiden  and  a  youth,  were  there 
Gazing ; — the  one  on  all  that  was  beneath 
Fair  as  herself — but  the  boy  gazed  on  her. 

BYRON'S  DREAM. 
"  Away — away !  my  early  dream 

Remembrance  never  must  awake — 
Oh !  where  is  Lethe's  fabled  stream  ? 

My  foolish  heart,  be  still  or  break."  BTROS. 

HAVE  you  forgotten  Aunt  Debby?  We  hope  not;  for 
though  years  have  passed  since  you  have  visited  Sunny  Dell, 
she  still  reigns  there  in  undivided  sovereignty.  Hena  is  with 
her  now,  for  many  changes  have  taken  place  in  her  own  home, 


RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD.  109 

Bince  she  appeared  the  wild  skating  girl  of  the  meadow,  or  the 
wise  Latin  scholar  poring  over  the  pages  of  Virgil,  with  Sher- 
wood Lindsey,  by  the  side  of  the  evening  fire.  Her  mother  was 
dead,  not  of  the  nervous  debility,  which  she  regarded  as  a  fatal 
disease,  but  of  a  contagious  fever  that  swept  over  the  neigh- 
bourhood, in  a  vein  of  destruction,  like  the  hurricane,  selecting 
here  and  there  a  victim.  In  her  last  moments,  that  phenome- 
non occurred,  which  is  so  often  seen  in  the  moral  as  in  the 
physical  world — the  sudden  clearing  away  of  the  mists  of  error 
from  life's  setting  sun.  She  seemed  to  have  a  prophetic  view 
of  the  trials  to  which  her  long-protracted  indulgence  would 
expose  her  son,  and  to  take  in,  with  her  brightened  vision,  the 
superiority  and  disinterestedness  of  Rena's  character.  Calling 
her  to  her  bed-side,  she  committed  her  brother  to  her  care  and 
guardianship,  in  conjunction  with  her  father's,  as  if  she  were 
the  elder,  and  of  the  stronger  sex.  Usually  the  dying  mother 
thinks  most  of  the  daughter  whom  she  is  about  to  leave  ex- 
posed to  temptation,  and  liable  to  sorrow  and  suffering ;  but  it 
was  her  boy,  her  beautiful,  quiet,  girl-like  boy,  for  whom  her 
last  thoughts  trembled,  her  last  prayers  were  offered.  Rena 
loved  her  mother,  because  she  was  her  mother,  and  therefore 
lamented  her ;  but  there  was  no  sympathy  in  their  natures — 
they  had  scarcely  one  thought  or  taste  in  common.  Far  dif- 
ferent from  the  instinct  of  the  child,  which  draws  it  to  the 
bosom  of  its  mother,  was  the  intense  affection,  reverence,  re- 
speot  she  bore  her  father.  She  worshipped  him  as  the  repre- 
sentative of  her  God  on  earth,  and  believed  in  him,  as  a  living 
Grospel,  having  all  the  precepts  of  our  Saviour  written  pn  his 
heart  and  life. 

Colonel  Fay's  sorrow  for  his  wife  was  deep  and  true.  He 
mourned  for  her  as  the  mother  does  for  the  feeble  infant 
dependent  on  her  tenderness  and  cares.  He  missed  the  soft 
whisper  of  her  complaining  voice,  the  odour^of  medicine  that 
always  pervaded  her  apartment,  the  little  row  of  labelled  vials 


110  REN  A;   OR,   THE   SNOWBIRD. 

that  adorned  her  mantel-piece.  It  looked  strange  and  deso- 
late to  see  the  couch  smooth  and  high,  covered  with  snowy 
drapery,  instead  of  bearing  a  pale  and  slender  form,  so  long 
its  daily  burden.  He  could  not  convince  himself  that  it  was 
no  longer  necessary  to  walk  about  the  house  with  a  stilly 
tread,  to  speak  in  a  subdued  voice,  for  fear  of  jarring  the 
delicate  nerves  he  was  so  careful  to  save  from  the  slightest 
pain. 

But  time  brought  with  it  resignation,  comfort,  cheerful- 
ness. He  had  a  large,  warm,  generous  heart,  and  he  found 
that  the  world  contained  loveable  objects  besides  his  children. 
His  neighbours  noticed  that  the  Colonel  was  more  particular 
about  his  dress  on  Sunday,  that  his  tall  figure  was  more  erect, 
that  he  went  several  nights  in  succession  to  visit  a  certain 
widow,  to  sympathize  with  her  in  her  loneliness.  He  had 
known  her  when  a  young  girl,  and  came  very  near  loving  her, 
when  tlie  beauty  of  his  wife  captivated  his  fancy  and  blinded 
his  judgment.  They  were  both  free,  both  wiser  for  experience, 
both  possessed  of  sufficient  property  to  lift  them  above  the 
imputation  of  being  actuated  by  mercenary  motives.  With 
so  many  congenialities,  it  is  not  surprising  that  they  wedded, 
and  Rena  saw  her  second  mother  take  the  place  of  honour  at 
her  father's  board.  At  first  she  felt  the  natural  shrinking  of 
youth  from  seeing  a  comparative  stranger  fill  that  sacred 
station,  but  she  would  as  soon  have  cut  off  her  right  hand 
and  have  plucked  out  her  right  eye  as  oppose  her  father's 
right  to  bestow  his  name  and  affections  on  another.  She  had 
no  mean  jealousy  that  he  would  love  her  less,  nor  did  she 
Delieve  her  own  mother  would  sleep  less  quietly  in  her  green 
sward  bed  because  the  home  of  her  widowed  husband  was 
gladdened  by  another's  presence. 

The  new  Mrs.  Fay  was  a  woman  of  mind  as  well  as  heart  j 
who  attended  energetically  to  her  domestic  duties,  yet  was 
always  ready  to  share  the  evening  hours  with  her  husband,  in 


RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD.  Ill 

the  pleasures  of  reading  and  conversation — pleasures  in  which 
Rena  always  participated,  as  a  companion,  rather  than  a  child. 
'  Henry  was  in  College,  so  he  was  withdrawn  from  the  circle 
where  the  good  and  gracious  influences  of  his  step-mother 
diffused  so  much  happiness,  and  it  was  not  very  long  before 
Rena,  too,  was  importuned  by  Aunt  Debby  to  come  to  Sunny 
Dell.  Her  brother,  she  said,  no  longer  needed  her.  He  had 
a  wife  who  was  a  helpmate  indeed,  and  that  was  more  than  he 
had  ever  had  before.  She  was  lonely,  she  wanted  her  favourite, 
and  she  hinted  that  it  would  be  for  her  interest  to  gratify  the 
wishes  of  Aunt  Debby.  This  hint  Colonel  Fay  did  not  repeat  vo 
his  daughter,  but  it  had  some  influence  in  inducing  him  to 
sacrifice  any  selfish  feeling  on  his  own  part.  If  his  sister 
thought  of  making  Rena  her  heiress,  it  was  not  for  him  to 
put  barriers  in  her  way.  So  Rena,  at  sixteen,  appeared  again 
in  Aunt  Debby's  mountain-guarded  home. 

We  asked  you,  a  little  while  ago,  if  you  had  forgotten  Aunt 
Debby  ?  but  it  is  no  matter  if  you  have,  if  you  become  ac- 
quainted with  her  at  this  period.  We  think  you  will  like  her 
better  now.  The  years  which  have  elapsed  since  you  last  saw 
her,  which  have  changed  the  folded  bud  to  the  just  opened 
blossom,  have  mellowed  instead  of  fading  her.  The  short, 
stiff  black  hair  that  stuck  up  all  over  her  head,  and  gave  a 
porcupine  fierceness  to  her  appearance,  has  grown  long  and 
soft,  and  is  put  up  in  a  braid  behind.  Not  that  she  is  guilty 
of  braiding  it  herself — the  idea  is  perfect  nonsense.  She 
always  tucks  it  up  in  a  mysterious-looking  twist,  that  does  not, 
take  two  seconds  to  arrange;  but  Rena,  bewitching  little  Rena, 
whom  nobody  can  resist,  has  actually  persuaded  her  fo  let  her 
comb,  brush,  and  braid  her  hair  d  la  mode,  and  to  do  sundry 
other  womanly  things  she  never  thought  of  before.  She  has 
had  so  few  to  care  for  he'r,  to  take  tije  least  interest  how  she 
looks,  she  has  been  so  engrossed  wjm  worldly  cares,  or  given 
up  to  bitter  memories ;  then  every  one  is  afraid  to  make  any 


i!2  RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD. 

personal  remark  to  her,  she  is  so  independent  and  peculiar. 
They  look  upon  her  as  one  who  has  sworn  enmity  to  all  the 
light  graces  of  her  sex,  and  they  only  talk  behind  her  back  of 
her  odd  mode  of  dress  and  unfeminine  appearance.  The  young 
tiring-woman  is  now  at  her  task — let  us  peep  in  Aunt  Debby's 
chamber,  and  see  the  charm  by  which  Rena  tames  her  to  sub- 
mit to  the  process. 

Have  you  never  felt  a  soft,  soothing,  delicious  sensation  steal 
over  you,  bringing  quiet,  pleasant  thoughts  to  the  mind,  and  a 
dewy  slumberousness  to  the  eyes,  as  a  gentle  hand  passed  over 
your  hair ;  passed  and  repassed,  each  time  touching  the  "  elec- 
tric chain,  by  which  we  are  darkly  bound  ?"  Thus  Rena's 
hand  smoothed,  with  mesmerising  influence,  Aunt  Debby's 
hitherto  neglected  locks,  softening  at  the  same  time  the  inner 
woman. 

"  Now,  dear  aunt,  sit  still  a  little  longer,"  said  the  bower- 
maiden,  "  till  I  finish  this  beautiful  braid ;  you  have  no  idea 
how  soft  and  glossy  it  fooks  !" 

"  Beautiful  fiddlestick  !  child  !  Who  ever  thought  of  calling 
anything  beautiful  about  me  now  ?  It's  all  nonsense." 

"  No,  it  is  not,  aunt.  It  does  look  nice  and  pretty.  There, 
let  me  smooth  it  down  on  your  forehead  a  little  more.  Turn 
your  head  a  little  to  the  right.  Now,  look  in  the  glass,  Aunt 
Debby,  and  see  if  it  does  not  become  you." 

Rena  skipped  across  the  room  and  brought  a  toilet  glass, 
which  she  held  directly  in  front  of  her  aunt's  face.  Aunt 
Debby  tried  to  shut  her  eyes,  and  said  she  would  not  do  so  silly 
a  thing  as  to  look  at  herself,  but  she  did  take  a  sly  peep,  just 
long  enough  to  catch  the  reflection  of  her  smooth  black  hair 
parted  on  her  brow,  softening  the  outline  of  her  really  fine 
classic  features. 

"  Why,  the  child  is  really  making  a  fool  of  me,"  said  she, 
patting  Rena,  affectionately  on  the  shoulder ;  "  who  cares  how 
an  old  woman  like  me  looks?" 


RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD.  113 

"  But,  you  are  not  an  old  woman,  Aunt  Debby,  I  won't  let 
you  call  yourself  so.  There  is  not  one  gray  hair  among  all 
these  jetty  locks.  Many  a  young  girl  would  be  proud  to  wear 
them.  And  now,  aunt,  please  let  me  take  that  lace  collar  I 
saw  in  your  shell  drawer,  and  put  it  on  your  neck.  It  will 
grow  yellow  and  old-fashioned  lying  there.  I  want  you  to 
wear  something  white  about  your  throat,  like  other  ladies,  aunt. 
May  I  get  it  1" 

Kena  pleaded  as  if  it  were  a  personal  favour  to  herself, 
a  matter  of  vital  importance  to  the  interests  of  society  :  and 
how  could  she  refuse  ? 

There  was  an  obsolete  case  of  drawers  in  her  room,  where  her 
best  articles  were  deposited.  Each  drawer  had  a  peculiar  name. 
There  was  the  narrow  drawer  at  the  top,  the  two  corner  draw- 
ers, and  in  the  centre,  one  of  broader  dimensions,  and  of  richer 
appearance.  The  dark  mahogany  was  grooved  upward  in  curt - 
ing  lines,  resembling  the  convolutions  of  a  shell.  From  this 
circumstance  it  received  its  name,  and  Rena,  when  a  little  six 
year  old  child,  had  a  most  intense  admiration  for  this  receptacle. 
She  used  to  watch  the  light  playing  on  the  projecting  lines,  and 
the  deep  shadows  settling  in  the  grooves,  till  it  became  a  really 
sublime  object.  She  did  not  think  then,  she  would  ever  bo 
privileged  to  explore  its  hidden  recesses.  She  remembered 
once,  when  she  only  laid  her  hand  on  the  shining  brass  handles, 
feeling  Aunt  Debby's  thimble  suddenly  rapping  on  her  brain, 
scaring  away  all  ideas  of  the  sublime  and  beautiful. 

"  Silly  child !"  repeated  she,  while  Rena  attached  the  lacs 
to  the  dark  binding  of  her  dress;  "what  is  the  use  of  such  a 
folderol  as  this?  It  was  given  to  me,  or  you  would  not 
have  found  it  in  my  possession.  Foolish  little  girl,  you  will 
make  everybody  laugh  at  me,  and  say  I  am  fixing  up  for  another 
husband." 

"No,  indeed,  aunt,  they  will  only  say  how  well  and  lady- 
like you  look.  The  mistress  of  this  beautiful  Sunny  Dell  ought 


114  RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD. 

to  dress  like  a  lady.  You  cannot  think  what  a  magic  there  is 
in  that  little  piece  of  lace.  How  it  softens  the  outlines  of 
your  face.  Don't  shake  your  head,  aunt,  you  know  it  does  I 
Many  a  time  have  I  heard  my  father  say,  how  handsome,  how 
gay,  how  admired  you  were  in  youth." 

Aunt  Bobby's  countenance  changed  instantaneously.  "  Do 
not  recall  the  memories  of  my  youth,"  said  she,  "  they  are 
all  vanity  and  vexation  of  spirit.  What  matters  it  now  to  me, 
that  I  was  once  gay  and  admired  ?  When.  I  think  what  I  once 
was,  and  what  I  now  am,  it  sometimes  seems  to  me  that  I  have 
died  and  awakened  to  another  existence.  Rena,"  she  added, 
in  a  tone  so  different  from  her  usual  abrupt  manner  of  speak- 
ing, that  Rena  scarcely  recognised  her  voice,  "  I  mourn  not 
over  my  vanished  youth  and  beauty,  but  I  mourn  for  the  blight 
that  fell  on  the  bloom  of  my  heart,  for  the  withering  of  my 
green  affections,  for  the  gall  that  turned  to  bitterness  the  sweet 
fountain  of  feeling." 

She  paused,  her  head  drooped  on  her  hand,  and  her  eyes 
were  fixed  on  the  opposite  window,  through  which  was  beheld 
the  lofty  turrets  of  Bellevue,  catching  the  sunbeams  above  the 
dark,  sloping  lines  of  poplars.  Rena  looked  upon  Aunt  Debby 
with  a  doubt  of  her  identity,  her  language  was  so  different 
from  any  she  had  ever  used  .before,  her  countenance  so 
changed.  She  longed  to  ask  her  the  history  of  her  youth, 
the  romance  of  her  early  life,  but  delicacy  and  respect 
restrained  her.  She  had  a  conviction  that  it  was  Sher- 
wood Lindsey's  father  who  had  infused  the  gall-drops  in  the 
current  of  youthful  affection ;  and  she  felt  an  unaccountable 
dread  of  hearing  his  name  associated  with  wrong  and,  perhapsj 
crime. 

She  loved  Aunt  Debby  better  than  she  had  ever  done  be- 
fore. She  pitied,  sympathized  with  her.  She  was  of  an  age 
when  the  heart  is  full,  ready  to  run  over  with  sensibility,  and 
panting  for  objects  on  which  to  pour  the  swelling  tide. 


RENAj   OR,   THE   SNOWBIRD.  115 

"  Dear  aunt" — she  could  not  help  saying.  There  was  so 
much  feeling  in  her  voice,  that  Aunt  Debby  started,  and, 
ashamed  of  the  betrayal  of  emotions  so  seldom  witnessed  by 
others,  she  pushed  back  her  chair,  and  told  Rena  to  let  the 
curtain  fall  over  the  window,  to  exclude  the  rays  of  the  sun. 
lu  a  short  time  she  was  as  busy  as  ever  about  her  work,  scold- 
ing Rena,  in  an  affectionate  manner,  for  making  her  look  so 
like  a  fool.  But  she  soon  became  accustomed  to  looking  so, 
and  the  change  in  her  manners  corresponded  with  her  softened 
exterior.  She  continued  odd,  and  careless  of  the  world's 
opinions,  but  the  sharp  corners  of  her  character  were  rounding 
off,  and  the  rough  places  getting  smoother,  and  the  difficult 
ones  more  easy. 

Rena,  who  was  allowed  the  freedom  of  the  whole  house, 
from  garret  to  cellar,  had,  with  very  peculiar  taste,  chosen  the 
attic  for  her  boudoir,  where  she  passed  several  hours  every 
day,  when  her  aunt  was  engaged  in  household  duties,  and  did 
not  require  her  assistance.  The  charm  of  this  place  was  a 
chest  of  books,  which  Aunt  Debby  had  removed  there  to  have 
them  out  of  the  way.  They  were  connected  with  the  faded 
romance  of  her  life,  and  she  did  not  like  to  see  them.  Rena, 
who  was  famous  for  exploring  little  nooks  and  corners,  dis- 
covered these  buried  treasures,  and  seized  upon  them  with  an 
avidity  and  enthusiasm  that  converted  the  lone  garret  into  a 
scene  peopled  with  glorious  company.  Her  father's  library 
consisted  chiefly  of  histories,  biographies,  and  didactic  works. 
From  these  she  had  laid  a  goodly  foundation  on  which  to  rear 
the  graceful  superstructure  of  lighter  literature.  Now  she 
was  transported  from  the  real  to  the  ideal.  Columbus  felt  not 
more  rapture  when  he  first  inhaled  the  breezes  of  the  virgir 
world,  than  she,  when  the  green  isles  and  star-lit  streams  of 
poesy,  and  the  enchanted  land  of  romance,  met  her  ravished 
vision.  Like  him,  she  knew  there  was  a  far-off  clime  she 
had  never  yet  explored,  but  imagination  could  not  picture  half 
its  riches. 


316  RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD. 

There  was  an  old  arm-chair,  of  very  curious  architecture, 
put  away  in  this  upper  region  as  a  piece  of  useless  furniture, 
which  Rena  dragged  forth  and  placed  by  the  window  as  ho 
throne.  It  was  of  Indian  manufacture,  constructed  of  rude 
forest  boughs,  interlaced  with  skill  and  some  taste,  and  it  had 
long  had  the  appellation  of  the  Sachem.  Deep  in  the  Sachem 
Rena  sat,  bound  by  a  spell  so  strong,  the  roof  might  have 
fallen  upon  her  head  without  her  knowing  it.  It  seemed  a? 
if  a  strong  wind  was  sweeping  over  the  Eolian  lyre  of  hei 
soul,  wakening  the  wildest,  richest,  deepest  harmony. 

Till  now  the  music  of  her  being  had  slept,  and  it  gushed 
forth  responsive  to  the  varying  strains  that  were  floating 
around  her.  Now  it  was  the  warbling  melody  of  Moore, 
that  sweet  nightingale  of  song,  or  the  wizard  harp  of  the 
Minstrel  of  the  North,  or  the  deep,  thrilling,  passionate  notes 
of  Byron.  Again,  Campbell's  clarion  lay  swelled  like  a  silver 
trumpet  on  her  ear,  and  she  felt  ready  to  march  to  "  glory  or 
the  grave."  One  day  Aunt  Debby  found  her  when  the  spell 
was  on  her,  seated  in  her  lofty-backed  sachem,  with  Lalla 
Rookh  before  her,  open  at  the  Fire-worshippers.  She  saw  not 
Aunt  Debby,  she  heard  not  her  approach;  she  was  listening 
to  the  voice  of  Hafed;  she  was  standing  by  his  side,  gazing 
with  Hinda  on  the  moonlight  flood.  A  flush  of  crimson  was 
burning  on  her  cheek,  her  lips  quivered  with  emotion,  her 
eyes  sparkled  and  darkened  with  alternate  light  and  shadow. 

"  Do  look  at  the  child !"  exclaimed  Aunt  Debby.  Rena 
started  up  and  looked  around  wildly,  to  see  the  company, 
whose  attention  her  aunt  was  soliciting.  But  as  no  one  was 
there  but  herself,  it  must  have  been  the  weird  spirit  under 
whose  dominion  she  then  was.  "Do  look  at  the  child!" 
repeated  she  more  emphatically. 

"Why,  aunt?"  said  Rena,  brought  back  most  reluctantly 
to  the  world  of  reality,  and  blushing  for  her  abstraction — 

"  Why,  I  have  been  standing  here  at  least  ten  minutes,  and 


RENAJ   OR,   THE   SNOWBIRD.  117 

you  saw  me  no  more  than  if  you  were  stone  blind.  I  don't 
believe  if  Pharaoh  and  all  his  host  were  trampling  about  the 
garret,  you  would  have  heard  them.  Rena,  I  am  sorry  you've 
got  hold  of  these  things.  You  have  wild-fire  enough  in  you, 
already.  You  shouldn't  feed  it.  I  think  I  must  lock  up  the 
chest,  and  march  the  old  Sachem  back  against  the  wall." 

"  Oh,  no,  dear  aunt,  don't  deprive  me  of  this  happiness. 
I'll  come  whenever  you  want  me,  stay  with  you  as  long  as 
you  wish,  but  leave  me  this  newly-discovered  source  of  enjoy- 
ment, more  exquisite  than  I  dreamed  the  world  had  in  store 
for  me.  You  have  never  read  this,  I  am  sure,  or  you  would 
not  ask  me  to  resign  it.  Listen,  aunt,  to  this  beautiful  pas- 
sage." 

"  No,  no,  child,  the  chords  that  once  vibrated  to  the  music 
of  poetry  are  all  out  of  tune.  There  was  a  time — but  no  mat- 
ter. Look  out  of  the  window,  Rena.  Do  you  see  that  tree, 
near  the  mill,  with  a  branch  on  the  side,  which  the  lightning 
has  stricken  ?  The  green,  tender  leaves  are  all  stirring  and 
fluttering  in  the  air,  but  the  dry  bough  moves  not.  You  are 
the  green  leaves ;  I,  the  withered  branch.  There  is  no  more 
use  in  reading  poetry  to  me  now,  than  for  the  wind  to  play 
about  that  brown  ruin.  It  is  all  nonsense,  child." 

"  But  you  will  not  lock  up  the  books,  aunt.  You  will  not 
make  me  so  very  unhappy." 

"  It  would  be  the  wisest  thing  I  could  do.  They  will  fill 
your  head  with  love-thoughts,  and  then  they  will  get  into 
your  heart.  Better  off  without  them." 

"  No,  Aunt  Debby,"  said  Rena,  "  the  thoughts  are  already 
there,  born  there,  and  when  I  read,  they  wake,  and  I  wonder 
how  others  should  think  and  feel  the  same.  Every  sweet 
strain,  every  glowing  line  seems  a  part  of  my  own  being,  and 
a  part  also  of  everything  sweet  and  beautiful  in  nature.  So  1 
feel  linked  with  all  that  is  good  and  fair  on  earth  by  a  golden 
chain.  Do  not  laugh  at  me,  aunt.  I  cannot  express  my  feel- 


118  RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD. 

ings,  I  know,  to  make  them  clear  to  others,  but  I  feel  happier, 
better,  I  love  every  one  better,  and  God  more  than  all." 

Aunt  Debby  looked  on  Rena's  animated  and  glowing  face 
with  mingled  compassion  and  admiration. 

"  Well,  well,"  said  she,  patting  the  warm  cheek,  "  have 
your  own  way,  and  may  God  keep  away  the  mildew  and  the 
frost !  But  come,  I  have  a  present  for  you.  I  came  to  tell 
you  so,  but  seeing  you  perched  up  here  in  such  state,  put  it 
all  out  of  my  head." 

"A  present  for  me !  how  kind !  what  can  it  be  ?" 

"  Come  and  see.  You  know  I  promised  you  one,  long  ago. 
You  deserve  some  reward  for  leaving  your  pleasant  home  for 
mine." 

Rena  bounded  down  stairs,  after  her  aunt,  wondering  what 
gift  awaited  her.  Aunt  Debby  led  her  to  the  front  door, 
where  "  all  saddled  and  bridled  and  fit  for  a  ride,"  stood  a 
graceful,  gentle-looking  horse,  small  enough  for  a  lady's  use, 
and  spirited  enough  for  a  Diana's.  It  was  as  white  as  milk, 
with  a  flowing  mane  and  sweeping  tail,  and  had  an  "  eye  like 
the  polar  star."  The  housings  of  the  saddle  were  red,  and  its 
martingale,  brilliantly  embossed,  glittered  as  it  arched  its 
neck,  and  turned  its  sleek  sides  to  the  sun.  Rena  clapped 
her  hands  with  a  cry  of  delight. 

"  Is  that  beautiful,  beautiful  creature  for  me  ?  all  my  own, 
aunt  ?  You  don't  say  so !" 

"  Yes,  all  your  own,  to  ride  over  hill  and  dale,  brook  and 
bridge,  only  on  one  condition,  that  you  do  not  break  your  neck. 
I  heard  you  say  the  other  day,  you  would  give  all  the  world 
for  a  horse  of  your  own,  that  you  might  ride  as  Di  Vernon  did. 
Now  you  shall  not  even  stay  to  thank  me,  but  run  and  put  on 
your  riding  dress,  and  try  him  before  the  sun  goes  down.  They 
nay  he  is  gentle  as  a  lamb." 

"  Thank  you,  not  once,  but  ten  thousand  times,  my  own 
dear  aunt !"  cried  Rena,  throwing  her  arms  round  her  aunt's 


RENA;  OB,  THE  SNOWBIRD.  119 

neck,  and  kissing  her,  as  she  flew  by, her,  to  don  her  equestrian 
garments.  She  had  not  broken  herself  of  the  childish  habit  of 
showing  her  love  and  gratitude  by  kissing. 

Seldom  had  Aunt  Debby  felt  more  unalloyed  satisfaction, 
than  when  she  saw  her  niece  mounted  on  the  back  of  the  beau- 
tiful animal  she  had  given  her.  It  was  a  pleasant  thing  to  see 
one  so  grateful  and  appreciating ;  it  was  a  pleasure  to  look  on 
her  happy  face,  and  buoyant  form,  as  she  turned  back  and 
smiled,  and  kissed  her  hand,  at  the  gate. 

"  Ride  with  your  back  to  the  sun,  child,"  called  out  Aunt 
Debby,  "  and  don't  go  too  fast  down  hill ;  and  be  sure  and  not 
stay  out  too  late/'  she  called  still  louder,  as  the  milk-white 
palfrey  bore  fleetly  away  its  young  and  joyous  rider. 

Rena,  who  delighted  in  all  out-of-door  exercises,  learned  to 
ride  on  horseback,  as  soon  as  she  could  manage  to  keep  her 
seat  in  the  saddle,  or  without  a  saddle,  for  she  did  not  stop  for 
such  a  trifle  as  that.  Every  horse  on  the  farm  had  borne  her, 
an  impromptu  burden,  about  the  fields,  through  hills  of  waving 
corn,  rows  of  potatoes,  and  ridges  of  beans.  She  had  ridden 
behind  her  father  and  before  him,  and  cut  as  many  capers  on 
horseback  as  Wamba  in  Ivanhoe ;  so  of  course  she  was  mis- 
tress of  the  whip  and  reins,  and  bore  herself  right  gallantly 
on  the  steed,  that  seemed  proud  of  its  new  mistress,  and  pranced 
and  caracoled  with  innocent  gayety. 

Rena  did  not  leave  her  love-thoughts,  as  Aunt  Debby  called 
them,  in  the  attic.  She  carried  them  with  her  on  her  lonely 
ride,  and  they  gave  a  blandness  to  the  air,  and  a  beauty  to  the 
earth  and  sky,  they  had  never  worn  before.  She  would  have 
been  perfectly  happy,  if  she  had  only  some  one  near,  'to  whom 
she  could  communicate  her  joy.  She  wished  her  brotner  waa 
with  her,  though  she  was  not  sure  that  he  cared  much  about 
riding  on  horseback.  She  thought  of  Stella,  whom  she  had 
not  seen  since  her  arrival  at  Sunny  Dell,  and  who  she  heard 
was  staying  at  Bellevue.  She  had  also  heard  that  Sherwood 
42 


110  RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD. 

was  returned  from  foreign  lands,  and  she  supposed  lie  had 
become  a  great  gentleman,  and  forgotten  the  Snowbird,  as  he 
used  to  call  her.  She  wondered  if  he  admired  Stella's  beau- 
tiful face  more  now,  than  when  she  was  six  or  seven  years  old. 
She  wondered  if  he  ever  rode  on  horseback,  and  thought  it 
would  be  pleasant  to  meet  him,  even  if  he  remembered  her  not. 
She  had  been  climbing  up  a  long  hill,  and  the  silky  hair  of 
her  palfrey  was  moist  with  perspiration. 

"  I  must  not  weary  you,  beautiful  creature  I"  said  she,  riding 
under  the  shade  of  a  tree,  that  bent  down  over  the  corner  of 
the  fence,  where  the  roads  crossed  each  other,  "  you  shall  find 
me  a  gentle,  loving  mistress,  and  we  will  share  together  the 
sunshine  and  shade." 

The  coolness  and  repose  of  the  shadow  was  as  grateful  to  her 
as  the  animal,  for  the  sultry  summer  glowed  on  her  cheek, 
and  moistened  the  locks  that  shaded  her  brow. 

Dropping  the  bridle  on  the  neck  of  the  gentle  creature,  that 
bent  its  head  to  crop  the  rich  grass  under  its  feet,  she  took 
off  her  plumed  riding  cap  and  put  it  on  the  pommel  of  the 
saddle ;  then  shaking  her  hair  loose  from  the  comb  that  con- 
fined it,  and  suffering  the  air  that  came  cool  and  fresh  over  tht 
hill-tops  to  play  among  her  tresses,  she  sat  perfectly  still 
drinking  in  the  wild  inspiration  of  the  scene.  It  happened 
that  another  equestrian,  just  at  this  time,  was  slowly  sauntering 
along  the  crossing  road,  slackening  his  pace,  from  the  same  cause 
which  induced  her  to  rest  beneath  the  shade.  The  trees 
formed  a  hedge  all  along  his  way,  opening  and  making  a  vista 
at  the  corner.  Through  that  vista  he  carelessly  glanced  at 
first,  then  reining  in  his  horse,  drew  back  a  little  farther  under 
the  shelter  of  the  boughs,  and  beheld,  himself  unseen,  this 
young  Diana,  in  her  attitude  of  graceful  repose.  Rena's  own 
mother  had  never  bestowed  much  thought  on  her  dress,  giving 
to  Henry's  the  attention  that  should  have  been  divided  be- 
tween them  ;  but  her  step-mother,  who  was  a  woman  of  great 


RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD.  121 

taste,  fitted  up  her  wardrobe  with  a  liberal  hand.  Knowing 
her  fondness  for  riding,  she  had  given  her,  just  before  she  left 
home,  a  beautiful  riding  dress,  not  of  the  most  costly  mate- 
rials, but  of  graceful  fashion  and  becoming  hue.  It  was  for- 
tunate for  Rena  that  Sherwood  Lindsey  should  see  her  each 
time  after  an  absence  of  years,  under  circumstances  of  pecu- 
liar personal  advantage.  The  deep  blue  colour  of  her  long, 
flowing  skirt  was  brought  out  brightly  and  richly  by  the 
snowy  whiteness  of  the  horse,  and  the  little  straw-hat,  shaded 
by  blue  feathers  (Rena  always  had  a  passion  for  straw-hats), 
looked  as  if  it  could  belong  to  no  other  head  than  hers.  The 
glowing  brightness  of  her  complexion,  the  flowing  wildness  of 
her  hair,  the  animated  expression  of  her  countenance,  and  the 
deep  repose  of  her  attitude,  formed  a  picture  which  a  painter 
might  have  studied  with  the  enthusiasm  of  his  art.  Add  to 
these  the  beautiful  surroundings,  the  canopy  of  leaves  above, 
whose  light  festoons  mingled  with  her  loosened  locks;  the 
green  carpet  beneath,  on  which  the  fetlocks  of  the  palfrey  fell 
like  flakes  of  snow ;  and  high  above  all  the  glorious  amphi- 
theatre of  heaven — it  is  not  strange  that  Sherwood,  though 
no  painter,  should  have  transferred  the  picture  so  faithfully  to 
the  tablet  of  his  fancy,  that  it  remained  there  ever  afterwards. 
There  is  no  knowing  how  long  he  would  have  remained  gazing 
through  the  vista,  had  he  not  seen  symptoms  of  a  removal  on 
her  part.  First,  she  gathered  up  her  long  dark  hair,  and  fast- 
ening it  with  the  comb  she  had  hung  on  a  little  bough  over- 
head, put  on  the  picturesque  little  page-like  hat,  took  the 
bridle  in  one  hand,  and  caressed  with  the  other  the  mane  that 
flowed  beneath.  Just  as  she  was  about  to  start  anew,  he  rodo 
rapidly  round  the  corner,  and  lifting  his  hat  from  his  head, 
came  directly  to  the  spot  where  she  was. 

"  Rena — wild  gipsy  still  I"  cried  he,  bending  from  the  saddle 
to  catch  the  hand  she  eagerly  extended.  "  When  did  you 
light  upon  these  regions  9  I  did  not  know  you  were  at  Sunny 


122  RENA;  OB,  THE  SNOWBIRD. 

Dell — I  did  not  dream  such  a  pleasure  as  this  awaited  m» 
when  I  left  Bellevue." 

"Then  you  are  really  glad  to  see  me  again?"  said  she, 
colouring  with  delight  at  this  sudden  meeting;  "I  feared  you 
had  forgotten  me,  among  all  the  wonders  and  grandeurs  you 
have  seen.  Only  think — how  long  it  has  been — four  years  ! 
It  seemed  an  age  an  hour  ago— how  little  time  at  this 
moment  I" 

"  Then  you  thought  of  me  an  hour  ago  !  thank  you,  Rena ! 
and  I  assure  you  my  spirit  went  out  to  meet  you  at  the  self- 
same minute,  and  I  have  been  thinking  of  you  ever  since. 
Forgotten  you  I  you  would  not  think  so,  if  you  had  seen  me 
last  night,  wandering  in  the  land  of  dreams,  with  your  scarlet 
livery  round  my  neck." 

llena  laughed  incredulously. 

"  You  remember,"  said  he,  "  the  trophy  I  won  in  the 
moonlight  race  !  I  have  kept  it  as  a  true  and  loyal  knight, 
and  when  I  go  forth  to  combat,  it  shall  be  the  device  upon 
my  shield,  and  the  same  bright  colour  shall  flame  upon  my 
banner." 

"  Well,  if  you  are  my  knight,  you  can  guard  me  part  of  my 
homeward  way,  while  we  talk  a  little  of  old  times.  I  pro- 
mised my  aunt  not  to  be  abroad  late,  and  the  sun  is  not  far 
from  the  horizon." 

Rena  felt  perfectly  happy,  for  all  that  was  wanting  to  fill 
up  the  measure  of  her  joy  when  she  left  Sunny  Dell,  was  now 
supplied — a  companion — and  the  one  of  all  others  she  most 
wished  to  see.  She  did  not  expect  to  recognise  the  gallant 
boy,  the  gay  collegian,  in  the  handsome,  travelled  young  man 
at  her  side.  But  she  did  at  the  first  glance — and  his  man- 
ners so  frank,  cordial,  and  unaffected — they  were  just  the 
same — only  a  little  more  polished  and  graceful.  She  felt 
just  as  much  at  her  ease,  as  when  she  coasted  on  his  sled 
down  the  hill,  or  skated  with  him,  hand  in  hand;  on  her 


EENA;   OR,    THE   SNOWBIRD.  123 

father's  meadow,  and  she  laughed  and  talked  as  merrily  and 
self-forgettingly  as  then. 

"  What  shall  I  call  my  beautiful  horse  ?"  asked  she,  when 
he  was  admiring  its  perfections.  "  You  shall  name  it,  if  you 
wish." 

"Call  it  Snowbird,"  said  he,  "in  honour  of  its  mistress. 
That  was  my  pet  name  for  you  when  I  was  a  college-boy." 

"  Call  me  so  still.  I  like  old  associations.  Give  it  a  clas- 
sic name." 

"Bucephalus?" 

"  Oh,  no — that  is  too  long,  too  grand,  for  my  milk-white 
steed.  Some  gentle,  home-endeared  title." 

"  Let  it  be  Cygnet  then,  for  gracefully  as  a  swan  glides  on 
the  water,  it  floats  over  the  dewy  green." 

Rena  was  about  to  give  her  pleased  assent  to  this,  when  her 
attention  was  arrested  by  the  sight  of  a  handsome  carriage, 
drawn  by  a  pair  of  coal-black  horses,  and  mounted  on  the  box 
was  her  old  friend  Jemmy  Bell.  Seated  within  was  the  dark 
and  handsome  man  she  had  seen  there  years  before,  perfectly 
unchanged  in  appearance,  and  by  his  side  the  delicate  lady, 
but  so  pale  and  faded,  she  would  not  have  known  her,  save  by 
her  former  accompaniments.  Sherwood,  smiling,  bowed  down 
to  his  saddle-bow  as  he  passed,  and  the  pale  lady  smiled  very 
sweetly  on  him,  though  she  looked  inquiringly  at  Rena,  and 
the  dark  eyes  of  the  gentleman  were  riveted  upon  her  face  so 
intently,  they  seemed  to  burn  upon  her  cheek. 

"Your  father  and  mother?"  said  she  to  Sherwood.  "I 
met  them  ten  years  ago,  when  I  was  a  very  little  girl,  just 
about  this  spot.  I  never  forgot  your  father's  face — it  haunts 
me  like  a  dream.  It  is  not  changed — it  will  haunt  me  stilL 
I  never  saw  so  striking  a  countenance." 

"  He  was  always  considered  a  very  handsome  man,  but  it 
is  a  brilliant  and  powerful  mind,  that  gives  the  fascination 
whose  influence  you  feel.  Oh,  Rena,  I  wish  you  knew  my 


124  AKNAJ   OR,   THE   SNOWBIRD. 

mother !  She  is  the  gentlest  and  sweetest  of  human  beings. 
She  is  too  good,  too  heavenly  for  this  world." 

"  It  is  not  likely  I  ever  shall,"  answered  Rena,  an  expres- 
sion of  sadness  stealing  over  her  countenance,  "as  she  and 
Aunt  Debby  do  not  visit  each  other.  She  has  indeed  a  hea- 
venly expression." 

"You  must  know  each  other,"  said  Sherwood,  earnestly, 
but  thoughtfully.  They  rode  along  without  speaking,  a  short 
time,  when  Rena  suddenly  broke  the  silence,  by  asking  him 
if  Stella  was  not  at  Bellevue.  The  recollection  of  the  excit- 
ing scenes  in  which  he  had  last  beheld  her,  called  a  high 
colour  to  his  face,  as  he  answered,  that  she  had  been  there, 
but  was  now  with  a  Mrs.  Brown,  who  lived  at  some  distance 
from  them. 

"  Is  she  not  very,  very  beautiful  now  ?"  asked  Rena,  notic- 
ing the  embarrassment  of  Sherwood,  and  feeling  a  little  dis- 
concerted herself. 

"  Yes,  she  is  certainly  remarkably  lovely.  Poor  girl !  I 
pity  her — forced  to  go  from  dwelling  to  dwelling,  sometimes, 
I  fear,  finding  few  of  the  comforts  and  endearments  of  home." 

"I  should  like  to  see  her — I  must  go  to  see  her,"  said 
Rena.  "  I  should  like  to  have  her  come  to  Sunny  Dell.  But 
whose  pretty  cottage  is  this,  so  neat  and  cosy  ?" 

"See  if  you  do  not  recollect  the  ruddy-cheeked  woman, 
churning  in  that  little  porch.  I  am  sure  /  never  shall  forget 
her." 

"  Hannah  !  it's  our  own  Hannah  !  Let  us  stop  and  see  her. 
I  knew  she  was  married  to  Jemmy  Bell,  but  I  did  not  know 
that  she  lived  here." 

They  stopped  at  once  before  the  wicket  gate,  and  Rena 
sprang  from  the  horse  before  Sherwood  had  hardly  dis- 
mounted from  hi?  and  gathering  up  her  long  riding-skirt, 
uhe  ran  through  the  yard,  caught  Hannah's  hand  away  from 
fche  churn-dash,  and  pressed  it  heartily  in  her  own. 


RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD.  125 

sight  was  at  first  dazzled  by  the  bright  face  and  blue  feathers, 
but  the  smile  and  the  voice  reassured  her,  and  she  knew  it 
was  her  little  favourite  who  was  greeting  her  so  cordially. 
Hannah  had  always  held  a  high  standing  in  Rena's  estimation, 
since  she  had  rescued  Sherwood  from  death  with  her  dauntless 
arm — an  act  which  had  been  signally  rewarded.  Though  Mr. 
Lindsey's  first  bounty  was  rejected,  he  was  not  discouraged 
from  renewing  the  offer.  Upon  her  marriage,  after  the  faith- 
ful courtship  of  six  years,  with  Jemmy  Bell,  who  still  retained 
his  office  of  coachman,  he  had  presented  her  the  neat  little 
cottage  Rena  so  much  admired,  where  Hannah  manufactured 
all  the  butter  and  cheese  used  at  Bellevue. 

"  And  are  these  little  rosy-faced,  fat  things  yours  ?"  asked 
Rena  in  astonishment,  looking  at  two  little  new  beings,  one 
vigorously  plying  the  churn-dash  while  it  sat  in  its  mother's 
lap,  the  other  rolling  about  on  the  grass,  kicking  up  its  chubby 
feet  and  crowing  with  all  its  might. 

"  Yes,  Miss  Rena,  they  are  both  mine ;  and  there's  only  a 
year's  difference  between  them,"  said  Hannah,  exhibiting  them 
with  as  much  pride  as  the  mother  of  the  Gracchi.  "  That 
little  fellow  rolling  on  the  grass  I've  named  after  Master 
Sherwood.  Sherwood  Lindsey  Bell  is  a  name  that  will  tell 
one  of  these  days." 

Rena  burst  into  a  gay  laugh,  as  she  looked  from  the  fat 
live  dumpling  so  loftily  christened,  to  the  tall,  proud-looking 
young  man  whose  name  he  bore.  "  I  wanted  to  call  my  little 
girl  after  you,  Miss  Rena,  but  its  father  would  have  it  Han- 
nah." Here  Hannah,  junior,  gave  such  a  lusty  pull  at  tho 
churn-dash  that  the  cream  spattered  in  far-spreading  rings, 
that  came  very  near  spoiling  Rena's  blue  riding  dress. 

"  I  declare,  Miss  Rena,"  continued  Hannah,  giving  her  one 
of  her  honest,  cordial,  approving  smiles,  "you  have  grown  so 
fine  and  young-lady-like  I  didn't  know  you  at  first,  but  wheo 


126  RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD. 

you  come  near  one,  you've  got  the  same  natural,  child-like 
sort  of  look.  Have  you  seen  Golden  Pippin  lately  ?" 

"  Hannah  !"  exclaimed  Rena,  rebukingly. 

"  Well,  Stella,  then — I  don't  mean  any  harm,  but  old  names 
will  stick  to  one,  anyhow." 

"  No,"  said  Rena ;  "  but  it  is  getting  late,  and  I  must  bid 
you  good-bye  now,  Hannah — you  must  come  and  see  me,  and 
bring  his  namesake  that  is,  and  mine  that  was  to  be." 

Hannah  shook  her  head.  "I  don't  visit  there  now.  Your 
Aunt  Debby  didn't  like  my  marrying  Mr.  Bell, — though  she 
made  me  a  great  many  handsome  presents,  and  behaved  like 
a  lady  as  she  is.  But  I  don't  go  anywhere  where  they  don't 
make  my  husband  welcome,  and  that's  the  reason  I  stay 
away." 

Rena  promised  to  perform  a  double  portion  of  visiting  under 
these  circumstances,  and  hurried  away,  pleased  with  this  speci- 
men of  rural  felicity. 

She  began  to  feel  a  little  uneasy  at  the  prospect  of  incur- 
ring her  aunt's  displeasure  by  seeing  her  return  in  company 
with  Sherwood  Lindsey.  She  did  not  like  to  brave  her  anger 
when  she  had  just  given  her  such  a  proof  of  liberality  and 
kindness ;  nor  did  she  suppose  Sherwood  himself  would  like 
to  expose  himself  to  the  scornful  reception  she  had  once  before 
given  him.  With  characteristic  frankness  she  said,  before 
they  came  within  sight  of  Sunny  Dell — 

"  You  will  leave  me  here,  Sherwood — I  cannot  call  you  Mr. 
Lindsey." 

"  No,  for  Heaven's  sake,  don't !  But  why  must  I  leave 
you  here  ?" 

"  I  cannot  allow  you,  for  my  sake,  to  go  where  you  would 
oot  for  your  own." 

"  I  have  sworn  to  be  your  knight,  and  I  should  be  a  craven 
one,  indeed,  if  I  did  not  see  my  lady  fair  safe  within  her 
tastle  gates." 


EENA;  OB,  THE  SNOWBIRD.  127 

"  But  you  know  Aunt  Debby — " 

"  Yes,  I  know  she  is  no  friend  of  mine ;  but  I  want  most 
especially  to  win  her  right  good  will.  The  dragon  that 
guarded  the  bowers  of  Hesperides  would  not  prevent  me,  now, 
from  coming  to  Sunny  Dell  I" 

"  Don't  compare  Aunt  Debby  to  a  dragon,  Sherwood.  She 
is  too  good  and  kind  for  that.  You  have  no  idea  how  much 
heart  she  has." 

"  Show  me  the  way  to  it,  and  no  Persian  devotee  ever  paid 
more  lowly  reverence  to  the  rising  sun,  than  will  I  to  the  pre- 
siding genius  of  Sunny  Dell." 

The  music  of  the  cascade  now  murmured  in  their  ears.  They 
crossed  the  bridge  and  soon  reached  Aunt  Debby's  gate.  She 
stood  in  the  door-way,  watching  for  the  return  of  her  niece,  for 
the  sun  was  only  a  golden  hemisphere,  and  twilight  was  lean- 
ing from  the  hills. 

"  Is  that  your  aunt  ?"  said  Sherwood,  tracing  but  little 
resemblance  in  the  figure  before  him,  to  the  grenadier,  whom 
he  had  once  defied. 

"  Yes,"  replied  Rena,  feeling  more  trepidation  than  she 
was  willing  he  should  observe,  in  prospect  of  her  aunt's  dis- 
pleasure. Sherwood  assisted  her  to  dismount,  and  led  her  up 
the  steps,  with  as  much  ease  and  grace,  as  if  he  were  assured 
of  a  most  cordial  welcome.  He  no  longer  doubted  the  identity 
of  the  lady,  for  well  did  he  remember  the  lightning  glance  that 
flashed  upon  him  in  boyhood,  and  which  had  lost  nothing  of 
its  scorching  fire. 

"  Mr.  Sherwood  Lindsey,  aunt,"  said  Rena,  in  a  deprecating 
tone. 

"  And  what  brings  Mr.  Sherwood  Lindsey  here,  where  he 
knows  he  is  an  unwelcome  guest  ?  Sir,  I  never  desire  one 
that  bears  your  name  to  cross  my  threshold,  or  sit  down  under 
my  roof." 

"  Madam/'  answered  Sherwood,  proudly,  but  respectfully, 


128  RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD. 

"  I  met  your  niece,  and  presumed  on  the  freedom  of  old  ac- 
quaintanceship, to  escort  her  home.  I  knew  I  had  prejudices 
to  encounter,  but  trusted  that  time  had  softened  them,  and  that 
I  had  power  to  remove  them,  as  far  as  it  regards  myself.  I 
rely  upon  your  courtesy  as  a  lady,  to  allow  me  to  visit  here,  as 
a  friend  of  Rena,  if  not  of  your  own." 

"  Young  man,"  said  Aunt  Debby,  moved  in  spite  of  herself 
by  his  frank  and  manly  bearing,  "  I  do  not  wish  to  be  uncivil 
and  turn  you  from  my  door,  but  once  again  I  say,  that 
not  till  morn  and  midnight  meet,  shall  niece  of  mine,  with  my 
permission,  associate  with  a  son  of  the  Hon.  Herbert  Lindsey. 
I  said  so  ten  years  ago,  I  say  so  now,  I  will  say  it  to  my  dying 
day." 

"And  /say,"  cried  Rena,  excited  beyond  the  power  of  self- 
control,  "  that  it  is  harsh,  and  cruel,  and  unjust,  to  visit  on  the 
son  a  father's  errors,  whatever  they  may  have  been,  /say  it 
is  unworthy  of  you,  Aunt  Debby ;  and  when  your  dying  day 
comes,  you  will  be  sorry  enough  for  the  bitter  spirit  that  moves 
you  now." 

Taking  off  her  hat,  for  the  strings  seemed  to  tighten  under 
her  chin  and  cut  her  swelling  veins,  she  fanned  with  the  feathers 
her  burning  cheeks. 

"Rena,  go  to  your  room,"  cried  Aunt  Debby,  pale  with 
anger.  It  was  seldom  indeed  she  turned  pale,  and  when  she 
did,  it  was  not  the  white  flag  of  peace  coming  over  her  cheeks. 

"  No,"  exclaimed  Sherwood,  "  I  will  no  longer  expose  her 
to  your  displeasure  by  my  presence,  but  thank  Heaven  the 
world  is  wide,  and  your  dominion  extends  not  beyond  those 
green  fields  and  that  bounding  stream.  Farewell,  Rena,  if  you 
have  one  kind  feeling  for  your  early  friend,  cherish  it  till  we 
meet  again." 

Taking  her  hand,  and  pressing  it  right  before  her  aunt's  face, 
as  if  in  scorn  of  her  threats,  he  gave  the  latter  a  triumphant 
smile,  and  passing  through  the  gate,  mounted  his  horse  and 


RENA;  OR,  TIIE  SNOWBIRD.  129 

gal'oped  across  the  lawn.  Rena's  eyes  followed  him  till  he  dis« 
appeared,  then  she  listened  to  the  horse's  hoofs  trampling  ove«' 
the  bridge,  and  then  to  the  water  dashing  over  the  mill-dam 
The  beating  of  her  own  heart  sounded  as  loud  to  her  as  th« 
tic-tac  of  the  mill,  and  her  rebel  passions  were  dashing  against 
her  heart  like  those  foaming  waters. 

"  How  long  are  you  going  to  stand  there,  looking  after  that 
young  man,  miss  ?"  said  her  aunt.  "  How  long  must  supper 
wait  your  pleasure,  miss  ?" 

"  I  don't  want  any  supper,"  cried  Rena,  passionately,  and 
sweeping  her  skirt  over  her  arm,  she  flew  up  stairs,  cast  her  hat 
upon  the  first  chair  she  saw,  threw  herself  upon  the  bed  and 
buried  her  face  in  her  hands.  It  would  be  difficult  to  tell 
which  she  hated  most  at  that  moment,  herself,  Aunt  Debby, 
or  the  world ;  that  world  which  had  appeared  to  her  so  full  of 
beauty  and  happiness,  when  she  went  out  in  the  sunshine,  on 
her  milk-white  Cygnet.  There  she  lay  at  least  two  hours,  for 
daylight  had  faded  into  twilight,  and  twilight  deepened  into 
the  rich  darkness  of  starry  night,  and  still  she  was  alone,  with 
her  cheek  pressed  upon  the  pillow,  all  wet  with  tears. 

At  length  the  door  opened  and  some  one  entered.  She 
knew  Aunt  Debby's  step,  which  slowly  approached  the  bed, 
but  she  did  not  speak  or  move. 

"  Are  you  asleep,  Rena  ?"  said  her  aunt,  bending  over  her. 
The  tone  of  her  voice,  though  grave,  was  not  harsh.  It  was 
even  sorrowful,  and  Rena,  subdued  at  once,  meekly  answered 
she  was  not  asleep. 

"  I  am  sorry,"  said  Aunt  Debby,  sitting  down  by  the  bed- 
side, "  I  am  sorry  all  this  has  happened,  child.  It  can't  be 
helped  now  j  but  I  would  give  half  of  what  I  am  worth  to  feel 
as  I  did  when  I  stood  watching  you,  till  you  were  out  of  sight, 
this  afternoon." 

"  So  would  I  too,  aunt,"  sobbed  Rena.  There  was  no  light 
in  the  room — none  without,  save  here  and  there  a  starry  gleam, 


130  RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD. 

that  did  not  penetrate  the  curtained  window.  Aunt  Debby 
had  been  sitting  in  darkness  in  her  own  room,  preparing  her- 
self for  the  task  she  believed  it  her  duty  to  perform.  In 
darkness  she  came  to  fulfil  it. 

"  Rena,"  said  she,  "  I  cannot  bear  that  you  should  think 
me  harsh,  cruel,  and  unjust,  without  a  cause.  It  is  strange 
that  one  who  has  lived  so  long  independent  of  the  opinion  of 
the  world,  should  make  her  happiness  depend  upon  that  of  a 
child ;  but  it  is  even  so.  I  have'  another  motive  too,  urging 
me  to  wkat  I  am  about  to  do.  Let  the  history  of  my  youth 
be  a  beacon  to  yours.  You  need  one,  child,  for  your  passions 
are  strong  and  may  drive  you  against  shoals,  of  whose  exist- 
ence you  little  dream.  Rena,  will  you  listen  to  me  ?" 

"  Listen  I"  she  exclaimed,  sitting  up  and  pushing  her  dis- 
hevelled locks  behind  her  ears — "  oh,  yes,  dear  aunt.  I  have 
been  afraid  to  ask  you ;  yet  there  is  nothing  I  have  so  longed 
to  know  as  the  story  of  your  early  life." 

"  If  you  expect  any  stirring  events,"  said  the  aunt,  "  any 
startling  incidents,  you  will  be  disappointed.  It  is  a  history 
of  the  heart.  Yes,  cold  and  hard  as  I  now  seem,  the  morning 
dream  of  my  heart  was  love — and  once  I  thought  that  dream 
was  realized.  I  have  been  sitting  in  the  solitude  of  my  room 
two  long  hours,  composing  my  thoughts,  so  as  to  avoid  all 
unnecessary  sentiment  and  display.  I  do  not  wish  to  excite 
your  feelings.  I  only  wish  you  to  know  why  I  do  not  wish 
the  son  of  Herbert  Lindsey  to  throw  his  shadow  across  my 
threshold  or  your  destiny. 

"  When  I  was  a  young  girl,  you  may  have  heard  your  father 
speak  of  the  lonely  situation  we  occupied,  on  a  farm,  quite 
aloof  from  any  town — quite  an  unusual  thing  in  the  heart  of 
New  England.  My  father  was  devoted  to  his  farm,  my  mo- 
ther to  her  domestic  pursuits ;  so  I  grew  up  amid  my  own 
wild  fancies  in  unchecked  luxuriance,  and  never  perhaps  did 
a  human  being  feel  a  more  exulting  principle  in  her  bosom 

rf 


EENA ;   OR,  .THE   SNOWBIRD.  131 

than  glowed  in  mine.  I  felt  no  sympathy  with  any  one  around 
me.  I  was  all-sufficient  in  myself  and  by  myself  for  happi- 
ness. My  mother  tried  to  bring  me  down  to  a  daily  routine 
of  duties,  but  at  last  gave  up  in  despair.  My  father  used  to 
reason  with  me,  but  he  might  as  well  have  reasoned  with  the 
lightning.  I  had  a  passionate  thirst  for  knowledge,  with  but 
little  to  satisfy  it.  They  sent  me  to  the  country  schools,  but 
I  could  no  more  sit  still  six  hours  a  day,  on  high-backed 
benches,  without  speaking  or  looking  out  of  the  window,  con- 
ning over  lessons,  to  recite  by  rote  like  a  parrot,  than  I  couA 
turn  my  blood  into  ice  and  my  heart  into  stone.  I  was  always 
violating  rules,  always  incurring  the  severest  punishments, 
often  sent  home  in  disgrace ;  but  home  I  never  went.  I  used 
to  ramble  out  in  the  fields,  and  climb  the  rocks  and  ford  the 
streams,  wondering  if  God  had  given  one  creature  power  to 
tyrannize  over  the  freeborn  soul  of  another.  If  He  had,  I 
determined  to  rebel  against  it,  and  I  did,  till  I  became  the 
terror  of  the  teachers,  and  the  reproach  of  the  neighbourhood. 
"  My  brother,  your  father,  Kena,  lived  at  this  time  with  an 
uncle,  who  resided  in  a  large  town,  celebrated  for  the  excel- 
lence of  its  schools.  He  had  taken  my  brother  home  with 
him,  that  he  might  have  the  benefit  of  these  schools;  and 
learning  from  him  my  wild  and  undisciplined  state,  the  good 
man  came  and  urged  my  parents  to  send  me  to  a  Female 
Academy  established  near  his  own  residence,  where  I  could  bo 
in  his  own  family,  and  enjoy  those  advantages  of  education  I 
so  much  needed.  The  superior  character  of  this  institution 
imposed  a  restraint  on  my  hitherto  lawless  disposition,  and  the 
love  of  knowledge,  till  then  unfed,  enabled  me  to  bear  with 
more  decorum  the  rigid  discipline  to  which  I  was  compelled 
to  submit.  All  this  time,  Bena,  the  principle  of  love  had 
never  been  called  into  exercise,  that  lever  which  could  have 
moved  my  stubborn  will,  though  in  the  hands  of  a  feeble 
child.  I  wish,  if  possible,  to  give  you  some  idea  *f  the  elo- 


132  RENAJ   OB,   THE   SNOWBIRD.  x 

ments  that  composed  my  character,  that  you  may  comprehend 
the  nature  of  that  influence  which  soon  brought  all  those  ele- 
ments into  vassalage.  I  was  a  strange,  wild,  wilful  girl,  with 
a  will  of'  iron,  but  a  heart  of  wax.  It  was  the  strong  will 
they  tried  to  bend ; — they  sought  not  to  impress  the  yielding 
heart.  I  remained  with  my  uncle  two  years,  and  it  was  said 
the  savage  was  tamed.  The  last  Sunday  of  my  stay  there,  a 
stranger  entered  the  church,  long  after  the  service  commenced  j 
and  now,  Rena,  begins  what  I  promised  to  relate.  Every  eye 
was  turned  towards  his  advancing  figure.  You  have  seen 
him  in  the  meridian  of  his  manhood.  What  he  was  in  its 
morning  you  may  imagine  from  his  son,  only  more  brilliant, 
more  striking.  There  was  a  kind  of  radiant  darkness  about 
his  face,  a  mixture  of  beauty  and  grandeur,  like  the  glory 
of  night.  The  eyes  of  the  stranger  wandered  about  the 
church,  when  I  felt  they  rested  on  me.  I  felt  it  by  the 
sudden  thrill  that  ran  through  every  fibre  of  my  being. 
You  have  been  told  that  I  was  once  handsome.  Whether 
I  was  or  not,  there  was  something  that  attracted  and  riveted 
his  attention  during  the  remainder  of  the  solemn  services,  that 
induced  him  to  trace  my  homeward  footsteps,  so  as  to  ascer- 
tain my  dwelling-place.  The  next  day  I  met  him  in  my 
walks.  He  spoke  without  an  introduction,  for  he  saw  I  was 
one  who  would  set  at  defiance  all  conventional  rules.  He  waa 
young,  but  had  already  seen  much  of  the  world — I,  nothing. 
I  can  give  you  no  idea  of  the  fascination  of  his  manners,. — 
that  is  a  power  that  must  be  felt,  not  described.  I  remained 
only  a  week  longer  at  my  uncle's,  but  I  met  him  every  day, 
and  lived  more  in  that  one  short  week  than  the  whole  seven- 
teen years  of  my  previous  existence.  Ah !  child,  child, 
when  I  look  back  to  this  period  of  my  life,  and  think  how  my 
heart  then  gushed  forth  in  one  warm,  living  current,  to  meet 
his,  and  feel  it  as  hard  and  cold  as  it  now  is,  I  can  compare 
-t  to  nothing  but  the  burning  lava  of  the  fire-mountain,  all 


RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD.  133 

cooled  and  hardened  into  stone.  You  must  not  wonder  at  my 
language.  Passion  always  abounds  in  metaphors,  and  as  I 
call  up  the  visions  of  my  youth,  it  rises  from  its  ashes  and 
glows  with  something  of  its  wonted  heat. 

"  I  returned  home.  He  followed  me  into  the  obscurity  of 
my  native  wilds.  There,  amidst  the  green  solitudes,  he  wan- 
dered with  me,  and  talked  of  nothing  but  love.  He  read  me 
poems  that  breathed  of  nothing  but  love — yes  !  that  very  poem 
I  saw  you  poring  over  to-day,  till  your  brain  seemed  on  fire, 
he  read  to  me,  with  his  voice  of  music,  when  there  was  no 
other  sound  heard  but  the  beating  of  our  own  hearts.  My 
parents  were  proud  of  the  conquest  their  wild  girl  had  made, 
and  my  former  companions  looked  upon  me  with  outward 
respect,  but  secret  envy.  Months  passed,  but  still  he  lingered ; 
but  at  length  we  parted,  solemnly  pledged  to  each  other,  heart 
and  soul,  for  life  or  death,  time  and  eternity.  He  was  to  go 
to  England  with  his  father,  who  he  assured  me  would  not 
oppose  our  union,  and  in  one  year  would  return  to  claim  me 
as  his  wife.  Well,  Rena,  child,  have  you  fallen  asleep  ?" 

"  Asleep  !  no  indeed,  dear  aunt.  Please  go  on,  I  could 
listen  for  ever,"  cried  Rena,  drawing  a  deep  inspiration,  and 
pressing  her  aunt's  hand,  with  unconscious  sympathy. 

"  The  year  passed  away,"  resumed  Aunt  Debby,  "  that  long, 
long  year.  At  first  letters  came,  frequent  and  long.  And 
such  letters,  I  wish  you  could  have  read  them,  but  I  have 
burned  them  all." 

"  I  wish  so,  too,"  cried  Rena,  ardently. 

"  A  pen  of  fire — a  heart  of  ice — strange  union,  child !  He 
returned  to  his  native  country.  He  came  to  my  rustic  home. 
I  thought  he  was  changed,  cold,  abstracted;  but  I  said  to  my- 
self, that  it  was  because  my  love  had  grown  deeper,  warmer, 
broader  in  absence — that  I  was  changed,  not  he.  Well !  the 
wedding-day  was  appointed,  and  wedding  preparations  going 
bravely,  nobly  on.  Long  webs  of  linen  were  bleaching  in  the 


134  RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD. 

sunshine,  brilliant  patch-work  counterpanes  were  stretched  out 
on  the  frames,  my  mother  was  busy  putting  daisy  tufts  on  the 
Bnowy  dimity,  everything  that  could  be  done  for  a  farmer's  only 
daughter  was  doing  for  me ;  me,  who  was  doing  nothing  for 
myself,  but  dreaming  of  a  future,  that  it  seemed  to  me  angels 
might  envy.  I  am  trying  to  put  off  the  dark  hour,  but  it  came. 
Yes,  the  wedding-day  came,  and  I  had  on  my  bridal  dress. 
The  letter  I  expected  had  not  arrived,  but  that  of  course  mis- 
carried. He  was  on  his  way,  and  the  bride  must  be  ready. 
The  minister  was  there,  looking  kind  and  solemn.  The  guests 
came  in  one  after  another.  The  odour  of  the  warm  cake 
mingled  with  the  perfume  of  the  flowers.  Everything  was 
ready,  but  the  bridegroom.  I  sat  waiting,  looking  down  upon 
my  white  dress,  till  I  thought  it  turned  into  a  shroud.  Then 
I  looked  at  the  guests,  and  they  were  all  funeral  watchers, 
assembled  round  the  dead.  The  flowers  smelt  like  grave-flowers, 
and  they  were — the  grave-flowers  of  my  earthly  happiness.  The 
'bridegroom  never  came.  We  thought  him  sick,  dead,  anything, 
everything  but/a&e.  I  was  carried  that  night  cold  and  faint- 
ing to  my  chamber.  The  next  day  a  burning  fever  was  in  my 
veins,  but  that  was  nothing.  After  a  while  a  newspaper  came — 
Heaven  knows  who  sent  it — and  there,  in  letters  of  fire  that 
burned  into  my  brain,  I  saw  his  marriage  to  another.  I  will 
not  pain  you  by  dwelling  on  what  followed.  I  went  through 
a  baptism  of  fire,  but  it  did  not  purify,  it  only  hardened  my 
nature.  Had  I  been  one  of  the  gentle  spirits,  my  heart  would 
have  broken,  but  mine  did  not  break.  It  seemed  as  hard  as 
the  nether  millstone.  My  friends  talked  of  revenge,  but 
I  disdained  the  thought.  My  father  threatened  a  suit  for 
breach  of  promise.  I  would  have  died  sooner  than  have  sub- 
mitted to  such  a  disgrace.  As  if  money  could  atone  for  blighted 
youth,  extinguished,  hope  and  betrayed  love.  As  if  money 
could  pay  for  the  heart's  blood.  No !  I  made  my  father  and 
brother  vow  that  they  would  make  no  attempt  to  avenge  my 


RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD.  185 

wrongs.  Beyond  my  own  little  neighbourhood,  their  story  was 
not  known,  and  I  would  not  have  them  blazoned  to  the  world. 
I  told  you  I  had  an  iron  will,  and  all  bent  to  its  sway.  EM 
name  was  never  mentioned,  all  traces  of  his  existence  were 
swept  away  from  our  home ;  all  but  the  deep  scars,  hardening 
over  the  heart's  wound.  Years  rolled  on.  My  father  became 
infirm  and  poor ;  his  vigorous  arm  could  no  longer  toil  for 
his  support  j  my  brother  was  married,  and  was  toiling  to  sus- 
tain his  own  family.  Mr.  Wright,  the  owner  of  this  large  and 
beautiful  farm,  a  man  of  property  and  influence,  visited  us, 
and  sought  me  for  his  wife.  I  married  him,  because  my  father 
was  poor,  and  he  urged  me  to  provide  a  home  for  mysalf.  I 
married,  too,  because  I  would  not  that  Tie  should  say,  I  lived 
an  old  maid  for  his  sake.  It  was  a  sin  and  a  shame  that  I  did 
BO,  for  there  was  not  one  spark  of  love  in  my  being  then.  He 
brought  me  and  made  me  the  mistress  of  Sunny  Dell,  and  I, 
who  had  led  a  wild,  dreamy  life,  transformed  myself  into  a  busy, 
bustling,  managing  housekeeper.  I  did  not  love  him,  but  I 
worked  for  him  with  an  energy  that  surprised  myself.  I  was 
afraid  to  sit  down  and  fold  my  hands,  lest  I  should  think  of 
the  past,  and  perhaps  go  mad.  I  rose  before  it  was  light, 
and  set  my  household  to  work,  and  my  husband  praised  me  as 
a  jewel  of  a  wife,  but  I  could  not  sleep,  and  the  strong  ener 
gies  of  my  character  must  have  an  object.  But  I  have  no* 
told  you  yet,  child, — I  do  believe  you  are  asleep.  Never  mind, 
don't  squeeze  my  hand  off.  I  have  not  told  you  that  Tie  dwelt 
near  us,  my  husband's  political  and  legal  foe,  dwelt  in  wealth 
and  pride  and  honour,  looking  down  upon  his  neighbours  as  no 
better  than  his  menials.  You  know  the  fact  already,  however ; 
you  know  the  lord  of  Bellevue.  I  was  walking  with  my  hus- 
band, when  I  met  him  face  to  face,  with  his  fair  and  beautiful 
wife.  I  did  not  turn  my  head  or  slacken  my  pace.  I  looked 
at  him  for  one  moment  steadfastly,  and  all  my  wrongs  came 

rusUng  up  from  the  depths  of  my  heart,  as  from  a  boiling 
43 


136  RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD. 

cauldron.  They  burst  through  the  ice-crust  that  covered  them, 
and  came  scalding  and  burning  into  my  face.  He  averted  his 
eyes,  that  proud,  false  man,  as  if  an  evil  spirit  crossed  hid 
path, — I  know  I  must  have  looked  like  one.  His  wife  clung 
closer  to  his  arm,  and  shrunk  from  me  in  terror.  I  laughed 
after  they  passed  by.  It  was  near  this  very  mountain,  and 
the  echoes  mocked  me. 

My  husband  died.  I  was  left  a  rich  widow,  with  no  child  to 
open  a  love-fount  in  my  dry  heart.  Your  father  urged  me  to 
visit  him,  and  told  me  of  your  mother's  feeble  health.  I  have 
nothing  more  to  tell  j  I  told  you  it  was  nothing  but  the  his- 
tory of  a  heart.  Yes !  even  as  a  little  child  I  learned  to  love 
you,  Rena — better  than  I  thought  I  should  ever  love  a  human 
being;  and  lately,  you  have  brought  back  to  me  some  of  the 
softness  and  freshness  of  my  youth.  You  have  womanized 
me,  Rena  j  for  I  was  hard  and  masculine,  and  tried  to  forget 
my  sex,  which  I  hated  and  loathed.  Now,  tell  me,  if  you 
think  I  can  ever  welcome  one  of  that  accursed — " 

"  Oh  !  aunt,  dear  aunt,  stop  !"  exclaimed  Rena,  putting 
her  hand  suddenly  over  her  aunt's  lips,  while  she  threw  the 
other  arm  caressingly  round  her  neck ;  "  As  you  believe  in 
God  and  a  pardoning  Saviour,  you  must  not  utter  such  dread- 
ful words  I" 

"  It  is  because  I  am  tempted  to  say  such  dreadful  things, 
that  I  never  can  forgive,"  cried  Aunt  Debby,  seizing  the  hand 
that  sealed  her  lips,  and  pressing  her  throbbing  temples 
against  it.  "  It  is  because  he  has  changed  me  into  a  being  I 
myself  abhor.  Had  he  bvt  told  me  that  he  loved  another, 
frankly  and  honestly,  I  would  have  released  and  forgiven 
him.  I  always  did  wonder  what  he  could  see  in  me  to  love, 
all  glorious  as  he  was,  and  is  still.  I  could  have  forgiven  and 
Joved  him  still — and  even  now,  in  spite  of  my  hatred,  my 
scorn,  and  the  bitter  memory  of  my  wrongs,  there  are  mo- 
ments when  I  love  him  still." 


RENAJ   OR,   THE   SNOWBIRD.  137 

Aunt  Debby  bent  her  head  down  upon  her  knees,  and,  as 
she  rocked  backwards  and  forwards,  Rena  heard  deep,  suffo- 
cating sobs  labouring  in  her  breast. 

"  Don't  weep  so,  aunt,  I  cannot  bear  to  hear  you.  You 
will  break  my  heart,  Aunt  Debby !"  cried  she,  winding  her 
arms  around  her  and  laying  her  soft  cheek  against  hers. 

"  Never  let  me  have  cause  to  weep  for  you,  Rena,"  said 
she,  slowly  lifting  her  head,  as  if  it  were  a  leaden  weight,  and 
leaning  it  against  the  pillow.  "  As  is  the  father,  ao  maj  the  son 
be.  Beware  of  the  race  !  they  have  the  guile  of  tn<  serpent 
and  the  sting  of  the  adder." 


CHAPTER  X. 

"  I  pray  thee  let  me  weep  to-night ! 

'Tis  rarely  I  am  weeping  ; 
My  tears  are  buried  in  my  heart, 

Like  cave-locked  fountains  sleeping. 
I  cannot  bear  to  think  of  this ; 

Oh!   leave  me  to  my  weeping  ; 
A  few  tears  for  that  grave,  my  heart, 

Where  hope  in  Death  is  sleeping."  L.  E.  L. 

RENA,  who  was  a  morning  lark,  rising  before  the  sun,  and, 
like  the  bird  that  gathers  the  dew-drops  on  its  wings,  greeting 
his  coming  with  the  glad  music  of  her  song,  slept  till  her 
chamber  was  all  bathed  in  sunshine.  Aunt  Debby  would  not 
have  her  disturbed.  She  went  in  herself,  with  soft  step,  and 
drew  the  curtains,  so  that  her  slumbers  might  be  prolonged — 
observing  with  tenderness  and  compassion  the  pale  cheeks  of 
the  young  girl,  and  the  shadow  that  rested  heavily  on  her 
brow. 

There  was  a  deeper  shadow  on  her  heart.    The  knowledge 


138  REN  A;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD. 

of  man's  treachery  and  falsehood,  "brought  in  such  close  and 
startling  relation  to  herself,  loosened  her  confidence  in  all 
that  was  good  and  fair.  Never  more  could  she  have  that 
undoubting  faith,  that  beautiful  trust  in  virtue  and  truth,  that 
child-like  simplicity,  which,  like  a  crystal  rill  flowing  through 
her  heart,  had  diffused  an  atmosphere  of  purity  and  freshness 
around  her.  She  had  tasted  of  the  tree  of  good  and  evil—- 
and could  no  more  dwell  in  the  Eden,  over  whose  blossoms 
the  trail  of  the  serpent  had  passed. 

So  she  thought,  when  she  sat  down  at  the  breakfast  table 
at  the  side  of  her  aunt,  who  seemed  now  invested  with  a  kind 
of  mysterious  charm.  She  scanned  her  features,  trying  to 
discover  the  traces  of  that  beauty,  which  had  so  powerfully 
attracted  the  young  and  dazzling  stranger ;  of  that  sensibility, 
which,  the  preceding  night,  had  burst  forth  in  impassioned 
tears  and  rending  sighs  j  of* that  love,  whose  divine  spark  nei- 
ther wrongs  nor  Time  had  utterly  extinguished.  But  Aunt 
Debby,  as  if  ashamed  of  the  emotions  she  had  exhibited,  had 
encased  herself  again  in  her  armour,  which,  like  the  shell  of 
the  tortoise,  covered  every  vulnerable  part. 

Days  passed  away — the  name  of  Lindsey  was  not  mentioned, 
the  milk-white  Cygnet  was  not  summoned  by  its  young  mis- 
tress, who  stole  away  to  her  lonely  attic  and  her  gray  old 
Sachem,  finding  new  fascination  in  the  wizard  works  of  genius 
and  passion.  But  she  was  feeding,  as  Aunt  Debby  had  said, 
the  wild-fire  within,  which  stole  for  its  fuel  some  of  the  roses 
from  her  cheeks.  Aunt  Debby  noticed,  without  commentary, 
their  paler  hue,  and  ordering  Cygnet  to  be  saddled,  insisted 
upon  her  riding  abroad. 

"  You  wanted  to  see  Stella,"  said  she ;  "  go  and  find  her 
You  know  where  the  Widow  Brown  lives,  just  beyond  Wal- 
nut Hill.  It  will  be  a  pleasant  ride  for  you.  If  you  choose, 
you  can  ask  her  to  visit  you,  though  I  don't  like  the  girl  and 
never  did  I  would  not  treat  her  unkindly,  but  I  would  not 


RENA;    OR,   THE   SNOWBIRD.  139 

wish  to  see  you  sleeping  on  the  same  pillow ;  as  you  did  wheu 
children.  Your  heart  is  pure,  child,  now;  keep  it  from 
contamination." 

Rena  did  not  look  back  and  smile,  with  a  face  of  living 
sunshine,  as  she  did,  when  last  she  rode  from  the  gate ;  but 
she  felt  grateful  to  her  aunt  for  not  commanding  her  to  avoid 
Sherwood,  if  she  should  chance  to  meet  him.  It  implied  a 
confidence  in  her,  which  she  resolved  should  not  be  misplaced. 
At  first  she  rode  slowly  and  pensively  along,  the  bridle  hang- 
ing so  loosely  in  her  hand,  that  Cygnet,  attracted  by  some 
tufts  of  fragrant  clover  that  sprang  up  by  the  way-side,  stopped 
leisurely  to  regale  himself,  supposing  he  had  been  taken  out 
for  his  own  amusement. 

"  Ah  !  Cygnet !"  cried  she,  "  this  will  never  do — "  and 
touching  his  flanks  lightly  with  her  whip,  he  sprang  forward 
with  a  bound,  that  would  have  thrown  a  less  practised  rider 
from  the  saddle.  She  was  soon  winding  round  the  brow  of 
the  hill,  under  the  foliage  of  the  walnut  trees.  There  was  a 
path,  right  across  the  woods,  and  she  turned  in  that  direction, 
her  spirits  already  exhilarated  and  her  eye  brightened. 

Suddenly,  in  a  bend  of  the  path,  she  met  Sherwood  Lind- 
sey.  He  was  on  foot,  and  his  hands  were  filled  with  clusters 
of  mountain  ivy,  whose  waxen  flowers,  and  dark,  glabrous 
leaves,  form  such  a  beautiful  contrast.  She  started,  and  co- 
loured with  surprise  and  pleasure. 

"  Rena,  alone !"  he  exclaimed ;  "  whither  are  you  bound  ?" 

"  To  Stella,"  she  murmured,  a  constraint  she  had  never 
felt  before  in  Sherwood's  presence  chilling  her  manner.  He 
missed  the  beautiful  sunburst  of  delight  that  illumined  her 
face  when  he  last  met  her,  and  could  well  divine  the  cause 
His  anger  was  kindled,  not  against  her,  but  the  one  whoso 
unjustifiable  prejudices,  as  he  supposed,  were  raising  barriers 
to  his  will.  Rena  had  scarcely  ever  seen  him  with  a  station 
ary  cloud  on  his  brow.  Even  in  the  midst  of  her  aunt's 


140  RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD. 

indignation  and  scorn,  a  smile  had  played  upon  his  lip, 
expressive  of  conscious  power.  Now  she  remembered  what 
Aunt  Debby  had  said  of  the  radiant  darkness  of  his  father's 
face,  and  she  saw  it  reflected  on  his  own.  Her  words,  too — 
"  Beware  of  the  race — they  have  the  guile  of  the  serpent,  and 
the  sting  of  the  adder  I" — rang  in  her  ears.  She  did  not, 
could  not  believe  them  as  applied  to  Sherwood,  but  she  wished 
she  had  never  heard  them. 

"  Rena,"  said  he,  "  I  have  been  rambling  about  the  woods, 
day  after  day,  in  the  hope  of  meeting  you.  It  is  not  the  dread 
of  your  aunt's  displeasure  that  prevents  me  from  seeking  you 
at  Sunny  Dell,  but  I  cannot  expose  you  to  her  anger." 

"  You  are  right,  Sherwood.  It  would  make  me  very  un- 
happy if  I  thought  you  would  ever  attempt  to  come  there 
again." 

"  Then  I  must  see  you  elsewhere,  Rena.  The  green  woods 
and  open  plains  are  left  us.  Close  by,  where  I  have  been 
gathering  these  wild  flowers,  there  is  a  rock  half  cushioned 
with  moss  and  supported  by  a  gray  old  oak,  where  you  can 
sit  enthroned,  the  queen  of  the  woods.  Come,  will  you  not 
dismount  and  trust  yourself  with  me  a  few  moments,  where 
the  withering  glance  of  your  aunt  cannot  reach  us  ?" 

A  short  time  before,  she  would  have  leaped  from  her  saddle 
and  enthroned  herself  on  that  rock  with  the  wild  freedom  of 
a  child ;  but  now,  with  a  burning  cheek  and  averted  eye,  she 
told  him  she  declined  the  honours  of  royalty. 

"  Have  you  promised  your  aunt  that  you  would  not  speak 
to  me,  look  at  me?"  cried  he,  impetuously.  "Surely  you 
have  not  bound  yourself,  heart  and  soul,  to  her  prejudices — 
yielding  up  that  noble  in  dependence  of  character  I  have  always 
admired  and  honoured,  too,  in  one  so  young — you  have  not 
done  this,  Rena?" 

"You  do  me  justice,  Sherwood,  but  not  my  aunt.  She 
has  requ'red  no  such  promise,  but  I  will  not  abuse  her  confi- 


RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD.  141 

dence,  and  willingly  do  what  I  know  would  gi\  e  her  distress 
and  anxiety.  You  must  not  blame  her  too  much.  If  you 
only  knew  the  wrongs,  the  provocation — " 

She  stopped,  remembering  that  it  was  Sherwood's  father 
who  had  inflicted  these  wrongs,  regretting  that  she  had  alluded 
to  them. 

"  Then  you  give  me  up  at  once,  without  a  struggle  or  a 
pang !"  said  he,  with  bitterness.  "  You  bend  to  the  will  of  a 
tyrannical  woman,  who  has  no  right  under  heaven  to  control 
you,  unless  your  own  free  will  gives  it  to  her.  You  care  not 
for  the  friend  of  your  childhood  !" 

"  Yes,  I  do  care,  Sherwood,"  she  answered,  her  eyes  filling 
with  tears  and  her  lips  quivering ;  "  you  know  I  do.  It  is 
not  kind  to  speak  to  me  in  this  way,  when  I  have  felt  so 
unhappy,  when  I  still  feel  so,  when  I  always  expect  to 
feel  so !" 

"  Forgive  me,  Kena — I  am  unkind — I  see  I  am  wrong.  I 
wonder  I  could  have  been  such  a  monster  as  to  cause  this  tear 
to  flow !"  There  wiw  -one  and  then  another  sparkling  on 
Cygnet's  downy  neck.  The  head  of  Rena  was  bent,  and  her 
blue  feathers  shaded  her  face. 

"  Come,  beautiful  Snowbird !"  said  he,  taking  her  hand, 
with  the  same  smile  that  beamed  upon  her,  when,  panting  from 
the  race,  she  looked  up  into  the  wintry  night  and  met  its 
warmth  and  brightness  and  beauty — "  come,  beautiful  Snow- 
bird !  light  upon  that  mossy  seat,  and  fold  your  wings  but  a 
few  moments  there." 

"No,  no,"  cried  Kena,  dashing  away  the  tear  that  still 
trembled  in  her  eye,  and  resuming  her  usual  frankness  of 
manner.  "  My  wings  were  plumed  for  a  flight  beyond  this 
hill,  and  I  may  not  rest  them  here.  Have  you  no  message 
for  Stella?  Or  is  it  from  her  you  have  just  come  ?" 

"No.  There  is  a  prohibition  barring  that  region  too 
Really,  I  must  be  a  dangerous  individual,  enclosed  on  every 
side  with  gates  of  brass  and  triple  steel." 


142  RENA;   OR,   THE   SNOWBIRD. 

"  Strange !"  repeated  Rena.  "  I  thought  she  was  with  your 
mother  .very  lately.  Did  she  not — was  she  not — "  She 
paused  in  confusion,  hardly  knowing  herself  what  she  was 
going  to  say.  Sherwood,  who  thought  it  would  he  ungenerous 
to  Stella  to  mention  the  cause  of  her  banishment  from  his  own 
home,  and  that  it  would  hring  out  his  father's  pride  of  cha- 
racter in  too  strong  relief,  sought  to  change  the  subject;  and 
Rena,  finding  it  easier  to  go  than  she  did  a  few  moments  be- 
fore, drew  up  Cygnet's  fringed  neck  and  said  that  she  ought, 
she  must,  and  would  go.  Sherwood,  who  had  been  adorning 
Cygnet's  white  forehead  with  the  mountain  ivy,  in  vain  op- 
posed her  departure.  She  was  ashamed  of  herself  for  having 
lingered  so  long. 

"  I  shall  waylay  you  on  your  return,"  said  he.  "  I  am 
become  the  bandit  of  the  woods,  a  second  Robin  Hood,  for 
your  sake." 

"  Do  not  stop  me  again.  Let  me  return  with  an  unburdened 
conscience.  Force  me  not  to  add  to  the  cares  of  one  who  has 
suffered  too  much  already.  I  shall  not  always  stay  with  Aunt 
Debby.  The  world,  as  you  say,  is  very  wide,  and  my  own 
father's  doors  will  never  be  shut  against  you." 

"  Stop,  Rena !  one  moment !  At  Hannah's  cottage  we 
might  sometimes  meet.  Surely  there  would  be  no  impropriety 
in  that.  My  own  mother  has  not  a  truer  sense  of  right  and 
wrong  than  that  heroic  woman." 

"  Yes — Hannah  is  a  noble  woman  indeed.  I  always  loved 
Hannah.  I  cannot  promise — that  would  not  be  right.  If  I 
did,  I  could  not  say  to  Aunt  Debby  I  went  to  Hannah's  cot- 
tage and  happened  to  meet  Sherwood  Lindsey  there.  Good- 
bye. Cygnet,  let  us  go." 

Away  she  flew,  but  as  soon  as  she  was  out  of  sight  of  Sher- 
wood, she  stole  one  of  the  wild  flowers  from  her  palfrey's  head 
and  hid  it  in  her  bosom. 

"  Not  care  t"  murmured  she.     "  Ah !  I  wish  I  were  a  little 


RENA;   OR,   THE   SNOWBIRD.  143 

girl  again,  playing  among  the  haymakers  on  my  father's  farm. 
I  was  so  much  happier  then  !  I  never  wanted  to  be  a  young 
lady.  I  would  give  all  the  world  to  be  the  child  I  was,  when 
Sherwood  bore  me  like  a  feather  on  his  arm,  or  when  we  played 
snowballs  together  under  the  sycamore's  leafless  boughs.  We 
certainly  grow  sad  as  we  grow  old." 

Thus  meditating  on  the  increasing  cares  of  life,  the  expe- 
rienced maiden  of  sixteen  approached  the  dwelling  of  Mrs. 
Brown,  the  present  guardian  of-  Stella.  It  was  situated  far 
from  the  road,  as  solitary  country  houses  usually  are,  a  plain, 
old-fashioned  building,  with  no  pretensions  to  elegance ;  but 
wearing  an  air  of  comfort  and  respectability.  Stella  was  sit- 
ting at  the  open  window,  busily  sewing  (Mrs.  Brown  did  not 
allow  her  to  eat  the  bread  of  idleness),  with  an  expression  of 
weariness  and  discontent  on  her  fair  features.  She  looked  up 
from  her  work  as  Cygnet's  light  hoofs  brushed  over  the  grass, 
and  wondered  what  blue-robed  sylph  was  floating  along  on  a 
white  cloud,  for  Cygnet's  motion  was  as  graceful  and  soft  as  a 
rolling  cloud.  It  was  long  since  she  had  seen  Rena,  and  the 
fashion  of  the  dress  makes  a  wondrous  difference  in  the  human 
form.  But  when  she  rode  right  up  to  the  window  and  she 
saw  her  eyes  and  smile,  she  recognised  her  with  a  pang  of 
envy  Rena  little  dreamed  of  implanting. 

"  I  did  not  know  you  at  first  in  that  fine  dress,  and  on  that 
fine  horse,"  said  Stella,  when  Rena,  who  had  disencumbered 
herself  of  her  riding  skirt  and  hat,  was  sitting  quietly  by  her 
side  and  gazing  earnestly  in  her  face — that  face  which  Sher- 
wood had  truly  said  was  so  beautiful. 

"  Oh  !  don't  call  me  fine,  Stella ;  you  know  I  don't  care  how 
I  look.  My  step-mother  gave  me  the  dress,  my  aunt  the 
horse  ;  is  it  not  a  beautiful  creature  ?" 

"  Yes  !  how  happy  you  must  be  to  have  such  kind  friends  '" 

"  You  are  happy  too,  Stella,  are  you  not?  You  have 
friends  who  are  kind !  surely  no  one  could  be  unkind  to 
you." 


144  RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD. 

All  her  early  admiration  of  Stella's  beauty  revived  in  her 
presence,  and  glowed  with  deeper  enthusiasm.  She  could 
scarcely  forbear  telling  her,  as  she  did  when  a  child,  how 
sweet  and  lovely  she  was.  She  owed  nothing  to  the  adorn- 
ments of  dress,  for  Mrs.  Brown  would  not  allow  her  to  wear 
at  home,  the  garments  Mrs.  Lindsey  had  given  her,  on  the 
plea  of  their  being  too  ladyfied  for  a  charity  girl.  A  plain 
calico  frock  was  her  only  decoration,  or  rather  the  only  one  to 
which  she  was  indebted  to  art ;  for  over  this,  sweeping  below 
her  beautiful  shoulders  and  slender  waist,  fell  her  magnificent 
ringlets  of  darkened  gold — for  the  blonde  hue  of  childhood  waa 
now  enriched  by  a  shade  of  sunny  brown. 

Rena  could  not  help  saying,  "  how  beautiful !"  while  she 
dipped  her  fingers  in  the  golden  eddies.  "Don't  you  remem- 
ber, Stella,  when  we  were  little  girls,  how  we  used  to  separate 
the  stems  of  the  dandelions  with  pins,  and  dropping  them  in 
water,  watch  them  turn  into  beautiful  ringlets ;  and  how  I 
used  to  put  them  on  my  head  and  try  to  make  it  look  like 
yours  !" 

Stella  took  but  little  interest  in  these  childish  reminiscences. 
Young  as  she  was  in  years,  she  was  prematurely  old  in  heart ; 
the  simplicity  of  childhood  had  no  charm  for  her.  She  could 
not  understand  the  freshness  and  artlessness  of  Rena's  charac- 
ter. Ever  associating  with  her  the  idea  of  Sherwood  Lind- 
sey, she  longed  to  know  if  she  had  seen,  as  a  young  man, 
the  gallant  boy  they  had  both  so  much  admired.  She  intro- 
duced the  subject  then  uppermost  in  Rena's  thoughts  as  well 
as  her  own,  but  in  so  artful  a  manner,  that  Rena  could  not 
suppose  she  had  any  connexion  with  the  subject  in  her  mind. 

"  You  asked  me  if  I  were  happy,  Rena !  how  can  I  be, 
when  I  compare  the  home  I  have  just  left  with  the  one  I  now 
inhabit?" 

"  You  were  happy  at  Mrs.  Lindsey' s,  then  ?"  Rena  was 
vexed  with  herself  for  the  deet)  blush  that  dyed  her  cheeks,  at 
this  simple  remark. 


RENA;  on,  THE  SNOWBIRD.  145 

"  Ob  yes  !  how  could  I  be  otherwise  ?  No  mother  could  bo 
kinder  or  more  tender  than  Mrs.  Lindsey,  no  brother  more 
affectionate  or  devoted  than  Sherwood.  If  you  knew  them,  aa 
I  do,  you  would  not  wonder  that  I  cannot  be  reconciled  to  my 
present  situation.  You  did  know  Sherwood  as  a  boy,  Rena !" 

"  I  know  him  now,"  replied  she,  with  deep  self-abhorrence. 
She  envied  Stella  for  having  shared  the  home  of  Sherwood, 
and  she  loathed  herself  for  the  feeling. 

1  Do  you  see  him  often  ?"  asked  Stella  with  a  deep  sigh. 
"  If  so,  you  are  indeed  to  be  envied." 

"  My  aunt,  you  know,  does  not  wish  to  have  any  intercourse 
with  the  family,  and,  of  course,  my  opportunities  of  seeing  him 
must  be  very  few.  Is  not  his  father  a  very  proud  man  ?" 

"  Proud !"  exclaimed  Stella,  writhing  from  the  remem- 
brance of  his  scorn.  "  Proud — no,  he  is  more — he  is  pride 
itself.  He  is  afraid  the  poor  charity  girl  will  charm  the  heart 
of  his  son,  and,  if  he  could,  he  would  bury  her  six  feet  deep 
under  ground.  I  hate  him — oh !  how  I  hate  him !  I  don't 
know  which  would  confer  the  greatest  joy,  the  love  of  Sher- 
wood, for  its  own  sake,  or  because,  if  secured,  it  would  be  a 
revenge  upon  his  haughty  father." 

"  Oh !  Stella,  how  can  you  associate  revenge  with  love  ? 
how  can  you  cherish  such  dark  thoughts  ?  Do  you  think  if 
Sherwood  knew  them — " 

"  That  he  could  love  me  ?"  cried  Stella,  recalled  to  a  sense 
of  her  imprudence,  by  the  recoiling  expression  of  Rena's  coun- 
tenance. "  No !  in  his  presence  none  but  gentle  and  loving 
thoughts  can  exist.  He  is  all  that  is  excellent,  noble,  and 
charming.  He  shielded  me  from  his  father's  anger.  He 
rushed  after  me  into  the  storm,  for  I  was  flying  in  despera- 
tion from  his  door,  and  brought  me  back,  encircled  by.  his 
protecting  arm.  He  told  me  to  call  upon  him  in  the  hour  of 
danger  and  distress,  and  that  I  should  find  relief  and  comfort. 
Can  I  think  of  this  and  not  love  him  ?  You,  Rena,  who  have 


146  RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD. 

been  nursed  by  fond  parents  and  caressed  by  tender  relatives 
and  friends,  from  your  very  infancy,  know  not  what  the  feel- 
ings of  the  poor  and  despised  are  !" 

Artfully  had  she  woven  these  facts  together,  for  Sherwood 
had  done  all  this ;  and  could  Hena  have  witnessed  the  scene, 
she  would  have  admired  with  all  her  soul  his  noble  chivalry, 
and  understood  all  the  feelings  that  inspired  him.  Far  dif- 
ferent impressions  were  made  by  Stella's  words;  and  with  a 
sickening  sensation  of  disappointment  and  distrust  in  all 
human  truth  and  virtue,  she  listened,  unconscious  that  the 
star-eyed  girl  was  reading,  but  too  faithfully,  her  pale  and 
varying  countenance. 

"  And  now,  Rena,"  added  Stella,  rising  and  putting  back 
the  rich  waves  of  her  hair,  so  that  her  face  was  completely 
unveiled,  "  look  at  me.  You  have  often  told  me  I  was  beau- 
tiful— and  so  have  others.  Tell  me,  with  your  own  truth- 
telling  lips,  if  you  were  Sherwood  Lindsey,  could  you  love 
me,  poor  and  unfriended  as  I  am  ?" 

"I could,  Stella!"  burst  spontaneously  from  those  'truth- 
telling  lips;'  "your  poverty  and  loneliness  would  be  but 
stronger  claims  upon  my  affection,  as  I  doubt  not  they  are  on 
his.  But  oh  !  Stella,  you  would  not  be  loved  for  a  beautiful 
face  alone  !  you  would  not  seek  to  inspire  such  love !  youi 
heart  would  ask  for  something  more  I" 

"  If  heaven  has  seen  fit  to  give  me  nothing  but  beauty, 
surely  I  ought  to  prize  it.  I  do  not  see  why  the  love  founded 
on  such  a  gift  should  not  be  as  dear  as  any  other.  They  talk 
a  great  deal  about  talents  and  virtue,  as  if  they  were  meri- 
torious qualities,  but  they  are  gifts  too.  If  I  had  been  born 
rich,  I  should  have  been  amiable ;  all  my  wishes  would  have 
been  granted,  and  I  would  have  been  contented  and  grateful. 
I  did  not  make  myself  poor !  I  did  not  throw  myself  into  an 
almshouse.  You  do  not  blame  me  for  that  ?" 

"  How  strangely  you  talk,  Stella !  I  cannot  follow  your 
reasoning." 


RENA  )    OR/  THE   SNOWBIRD.  147 

"  I  am  not  trying  to  reason,  I  am  only  expressing  thoughts 
I  do  not  like  to  hear  one  speak  of  beauty  as  of  no  value,  and 
as  if  one  was  to  blame  for  possessing  it." 

"  You  do  not  understand  me,  Stella.  I  never  meant  to  de- 
preciate beauty  !  I  love  it !  I  love  to  gaze  upon  it.  But  you 
know  that  may  change,  while  the  heart  and  soul  is  still  the 
same.  When  I  look  in  the  glass,  it  does  not  seem  as  if  it 
were  myself  I  see  reflected  there.  It  is  something  that  thinks, 
that  feels,  that  burns  within  me,  and  that  I  know  will  for  ever 
think  and  burn,  that  is  my  own  self — and  for  which  only  / 
would  be  loved." 

The  light  came  back,  bright  and  fervent,  to  Rena's  eye  and 
cheek.  She  pressed  her  hands  on  her  bosom,  for  that  some- 
thing which  thinks,  and  feels,  and  burns,  had  never  throbbed 
and  glowed  so  powerfully  as  at  this  moment.  She  was  right, 
when  she  said  it  was  not  herself  that  she  saw  reflected  in  the 
mirror.  The  still  form  and  passive  features  defined  on  the 
cold  glass,  were  so  different  from  the  same  lineaments  re- 
splendent with  intellect  and  glowing  with  feeling.  Stella, 
vain  as  she  was,  felt  that  there  was  a  charm,  a  witchery  about 
Rena,  of  which  she  herself  was  perfectly  unconscious,  and  she 
rejoiced  in  the  wisdom  of  Aunt  Debby,  who  still  kept  alive 
the  ancient  feud  between  the  families  of  Sunny  Dell  and 
Bellevue. 

"  You  must  come  and  see  me,"  said  Rena,  preparing  to 
depart ;  "  Aunt  Debby  told  me  to  ask  you." 

"  Mrs.  Brown  keeps  me  so  tight  at  the  needle  I  have  hardly 
time  to  breathe  the  fresh  air.  I  am  thankful,  however,  she 
wants  me  to  sew,  as  it  saves  me  from  any  house-drudgery.  It 
is  hard  to  stay  here,  after  living  at  Bellevue.  There  I  used 
to  gather  flowers  for  Mrs.  Lindsey,  and  place  them  under 
Sherwood's  picture, — read  aloud  to  her,  ride  with  her,  or  sit 
on  the  piazza,  by  Sherwood's  side,  under  the  sweet  honey- 
suckles that  twined  the  pillars.  Here  it  is  work,  work — scold, 
scold,  from  morning  till  night." 


148  RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD. 

'  How  long  will  you  remain  here  ?"  asked  Rena,  thinking 
the  change  must  be  a  grievous  one. 

"  I  don't  know.  Till  another  mistress  is  set  over  me,  I 
suppose,"  answered  she,  her  lip  curling  with  disdain.  "  When 
the  time  comes  that  I  am  my  own  mistress  I  shall  know  how 
to  reign — I  have  had  lessons  enough,  and  I  know  them  all  by 
heart." 

Mrs.  Brown,  who  had  been  from  home,  came  in  just  as 
Rena  was  going  out,  who  wondered  not  at  Stella's  discontent 
when  she  looked  at  her  hard,  coarse  features  and  heard  her 
voice,  which,  though  she  evidently  tried  to  soften,  had  a  harsh 
and  grating  sound.  She  put  on  a  courteous  simper  as  soon  as 
she  saw  Rena,  but  glanced  out  of  the  corner  of  her  eye  at 
Stella's  work,  to  see  if  she  had  dared  to  be  idle  while  enter- 
taining her  guest. 

"  I  have  finished  it,"  said  Stella,  coldly. 

"  Never  mind — 0,  la !  I  wasn't  thinking  of  such  a  thing. 
Won't  the  young  lady  take  off  her  things  and  stay  to  supper?" 

Rena  declined  the  invitation  and  left  the  house,  burdened 
with  messages  to  Aunt  Debby,  for  as  soon  as  Mrs.  Brown  dis- 
covered who  she  was  she  overwhelmed  her  with  civilities  and 
expressions  of  respect  to  her  attnt,  whose  name  was  known  far 
and  wide.  Stella  followed  her  into  the  yard,  where  Cygnet, 
like  a  docile  child,  waited  her  coming. 

"  Stella  !"  shouted  the  rough  voice  of  Mrs.  Brown  from  the 
window,  "  come  and  get  a  chair  for  the  young  lady  to  get  on 
her  horse.  Fin  ashamed  of  you,  for  not  thinking  of  it 
yourself." 

"  No,  no,"  said  Rena,  springing  up  on  the  saddle  lightly  as 
a  bird.  "  Stella  knows  that  I  need  no  aid." 

Then  taking  the  wreath  from  Cygnet's  brow,  she  handed 
the  wild-flowers  to  Stella. 

"  Thank  you,  Re«a,  but  I  don't  care  anything  about  flowers 
— I  never  did." 


RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD.  149 

'  I  thought  you  just  said  how  you  loved  to  gather  flowers 
for  Mrs.  Lindsey,  and  put  them  about — about  her  pictures." 

"  So  I  did,  but  not  for  the  sake  of  the  flowers." 

"  Strange  girl  I"  thought  Rena,  riding  slowly  down  th« 
yard.  "  Poor  girl  1"  thought  she,  when  she  heard  Mrs.  Brown 
calling  to  her  from  the  top  of  her  lungs  before  she  had  time 
to  enter  the  house. 

When  Rena  reached  the  path  through  the  woods,  she  looked 
round  in  terror  lest  Sherwood  should  be  waiting  her  there. 
Seeing  another  that  diverged  in  a  different  direction,  she  turned 
rapidly  into  it.  She  would  not  have  met  him  for  worlds,  in  her 
present  state  of  feeling.  She  had  convinced  herself  that  he 
loved  Stella,  and  that  it  was  natural  and  noble  and  generous 
in  him  to  do  so, — that  the  interest  he  had  manifested  in  her- 
self was  nothing  more  than  gay  gallantry,  mixed  with  brotherly 
kindness, — that  she  had  no  right  to  reproach  and  accuse  him 
of  treachery  and  deceit,  as  she  did  in  her  heart  when  Stella 
dwelt  so  eloquently  on  his  devotion  to  her.  She  tried  to 
think  that  the  pain  she  felt  was  caused  by  her  fears  that 
Stella  was  not  altogether  worthy  of  his  love — that  she  could 
not  appreciate  the  best  and  loftiest  traits  of  his  character — 
that,  as  she  had  recklessly  declared,  beauty  was  her  chief 
excellence. 

The  air  was  as  pure  and  elastic  as  when  she  left  home,  but 
to  her  it  seemed  oppressive  and  hard  to  breathe.  There  was 
a  tightness  about  her  lungs ;  they  had  not  room  to  heave. 

"  Oh !  I  know  what  it  is,"  said  she,  drawing  from  her 
bosom  the  flower  she  had  placed  there.  "  These  leaves  hurt 
me  I"  The  warmth  of  her  heart  had  faded  the  petals,  and  a 
brown  shade  already  stained  its  waxen  hue.  She  was  about 
to  cast  it  from  her,  but  a  second  thought  restrained  her.  It 
was  restored  to  its  hiding-place,  to  mingle  its  languid  fragrance 
with  the  wilted  blossoms  of  hope  ! 

That  night,  when  she  read  a  chapter  from  the  Bible  aloud 


150  RENAJ    OR,   THE   SNOWBIRD. 

to  her  aunt,  as  she  always  did  before  retiring  to  bed,  she 
selected  one  from  the  book  of  Ecclesiastes,  and  repeated : — 

"Vanity  of  vanities,"  saith  the  Preacher,  "all  is  vanity 
and  vexation  of  spirit,"  with  so  much  feeling  and  expression, 
Aunt  Debby  could  not  help  noticing  it. 
•  "  I  hope,"  said  she,  when  Rena  closed  the  book,  "  I  hope, 
child,  it  will  be  long  before  you  realize  the  truth  of  those 
sentiments." 

"I  do  now,  aunt,"  replied  she,  with  the  pensiveness  and 
gravity  of  a  young  preacher,  "  it  seems  to  me,  there  is  very 
little  happiness  in  the  world  after  all.  It  is  only  children 
who  are  really  happy." 

"  You  are  nothing  but  a  child  yourself,  little  moralist ; 
you  have  hardly  begun  to  live.  Don't  become  prematurely 
wise.  I  love  your  bright,  glad  spirit ;  it  fills  the  house  with 
sunshine,  and  makes  music  all  the  day  long.  It  has  half 
cured  me  of  misanthropy.  You  must  not  let  me  turn  you 
into  a  mope." 

"No,  aunt,  it  is  not  you;  sad  thoughts  will  come  some- 
times, without  any  one's  bidding.  When  my  mother  died,  I 
prayed  that  I  might  not  live  to  see  another  dear  one  laid 
away  in  the  cold  ground,  that  I  might  die  before  my  father, 
who  could  not  mourn  for  me,  as  I  would  for  him — and  if  I 
were  good  and  holy  enough  to  dwell  in  the  kingdom  of  hea- 
ven, I  would  rather  die  now,  young  as  I  am,  than  live  to  see 
all  the  bright  dreams  of  life  pass  away,  leaving  me  dark  and 
cold." 

"  I  wish  I  had  not  told  her,"  murmured  Aunt  Debby  to 
herself,  looking  anxiously  and  tenderly  on  the  young  moralist ; 
"  I  wish  I  had  not  told  her." 

"  You  say  right,  aunt,"  said  Rena,  looking  up,  with  a  sweet 
smile,  though  her  eyes  were  filled  with  tears,  "  I  am  nothing 
but  a  child,  a  foolish  child.  I  dare  say,  I  shall  feel  bright 
and  happy  to-morrow ;  but  let  me  lay  my  head  in  your  lap 
*Aw.  dear  aunt,  for  it  aches." 


RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD.  151 

Rena  complaining  of  the  headache !  It  was  as  strange  as 
to  hear  a  bird  complain  of  the  sore-throat.  Aunt  Debby  was 
alarmed.  She  insisted  upon  having  some  sage  or  balm  tea 
made,  and  prescribed  a  thousand  remedies,  all  of  which  Kena 
strenuously  refused. 

"  Then  lie  still,  child,"  said  she,  smoothing  softly  the  dark 
hair  that  lay  loosely  on  her  temples ;  "  you  have  been  riding 
too  far  in  the  warm  sun." 

She  continued  to  smooth  down  the  silken  folds,  as  she 
would  a  young  kitten  nestling  in  her  lap,  till  she  knew,  by 
her  quiet,  gentle,  regular  breathing,  she  was  asleep.  She  sat, 
till  her  limbs  ached,  from  remaining  so  long  in  one  position, 
till  her  own  eyes  were  heavy  with  slumber,  but  she  would  not 
move,  lest  she  should  wake  the  sleeping  girl.  Surely  the  foun- 
tain of  tenderness  was  not  all  dried  in  Aunt  Debby's  heart. 


CHAPTER  XL 

*  A  stranger  among  strange  faces,  she  drinketh  the  wormwood  of 
dependence ; 

She  is  marked  as  a  child  of  want — and  the  world  hateth  poverty ; 

She  is  cared  for  by  none — and  earth  and  her  God  seemeth  to  for- 
sake her."  PROVERBIAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

"  I've  wandered  east — I've  wandered  west — 

Through  many  a  weary  way ; 
But  never,  never  could  forget 

The  time  of  life's  young  day."  MOTHERWELI. 

STELLA  told  Rena,  that  "if  she  had  been  born  rich,  she 
would  have  been  amiable,"  but  she  was  mistaken.  The  arch- 
angelic  sins  of  pride  and  ambition  would  have  produced  anar- 
chy and  discontent  in  her  bosom,  even  if  it  were  mantled  in 

purple  and  fine  linen.     She  said  she  would  have  been  grate* 

44 


152  RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD. 

fuly  but  it  was  not  so.  She  had  been  taken  from  the  Ircgs 
of  poverty,  the  abode  of  pauperism,  fed,  clothed,  and  gene- 
rally kindly  treated,  while  other  poor  children  were  left  in  tho 
almshouse  unnoticed,  and  unknown — and  yet  she  was  not 
grateful.  She  was  beautiful  and  fair  to  look  upon,  young, 
healthy,  and  elastic ;  the  free  air  of  heaven  was  hers,  the  green 
earth  and  glorious  skies,  the  common  heritage  of  God  to  mail 
— and  yet  she  was  not  grateful.  She  had  truly  said,  "  she 
did  not  love  flowers."  Volumes  with  regard  to  her  character 
were  expressed  in  that  simple  phrase.  Not  love  flowers ! 
Those  rainbows  of  earth,  gilt  with  the  seven-fold  beams  of 
heaven,  proclaiming  the  covenant  mercy  of  God,  his  tender- 
ness and  love,  those  smiles  of  creation  so  bright  and  radiant, 
gladdening  the  waste  places  of  Nature,  and  making  the  wil- 
derness rejoice,  those  unfallen  children  of  Paradise,  whose 
pure  and  fragrant  breath  distils  balm  into  the  sin-sick  and 
weary  heart,  and  fills  it  with  innocent  and  holy  thoughts. 

Even  as  we  write,  there  steals  upon  our  spirit  a  sweet,  deli- 
cious odour,  exhaled  from  a  cluster  of  violets,  placed  in  the 
centre  of  the  table,  and  the  whole  apartment  is  perfumed  with 
their  aroma.  It  is  a  modest,  little  flower,  boasting  no  glow- 
ing tint,  or  gorgeous  dye,  yet  had  God  created  no  other  blos- 
som than  this,  breathed  no  other  fragrance  on  the  air  than 
its  exquisite  perfume,  we  should  still  have  an  impression  of 
beauty  and  grace  and  love  unspeakable,  a  token  of  goodness 
celestial,  of  mercy  divine.  Not  love  flowers !  Alas  for  the 
young  heart  that  conceives  a  sentiment  like  this ! 

Stella  was  more  thoroughly  miserable  than  she  had  ever 
been  before.  To  live  with  Mrs.  Brown  after  being  cherished 
in  the  home  of  Mrs.  Lindsey,  was  like  exchanging  a  couch  of 
down  for  a  bed  of  burrs.  The  hope  that  sustained  her,  when 
she  first  felt  the  discomforts  of  her  situation,  began  to  grow 
faint,  for  Sherwood  had  never  sought  her,  and  vainly  had  she 
wandered  abroad  at  the  twilight  hour,  in  the  expectation  of 


RENAJ   OR,   THE   SNOWBIRD.  153 

meeting  him.  Had  she  then  made  no  impression  on  his  heart 
and  imagination,  or  had  his  haughty  and  imperious  father 
more  power  over  him,  than  a  young  girl  in  the  dazzling 
bjauty  of  her  youth  ?  or  had  another  already  thrown  her  fas- 
cinations round  him,  and  made  him  regardless  of  her  own  ? 
Long  had  she  looked  forward  to  Sherwood's  return,  as  an  era 
that  was  to  brighten  her  destiny,  that  was  to  bring  before  her 
an  object  worthy  of  attraction,  one  who  would  raise  her  to  the 
rank  she  was  born  to  adorn,  who  would  be  at  once  her 
monarch  and  her  slave.  All  she  desired  was  an  occasion,  to 
appear  before  him  in  the  splendour  of  her  girlhood,  certain 
that  to  be  seen,  was  to  conquer.  For  this,  she  had  woven  a 
web  of  stratagem,  curious  and  subtle,  which  for  a  while  pro- 
mised triumphant  success,  but  had  resulted  in  blank  disap- 
pointment. Mrs.  Lindsey  had  called  once  to  see  her  and 
brought  her  many  presents,  such  as  she  believed  would  be 
most  acceptable,  and  such  as  few  had  the  means  of  bestowing; 
but  though  Stella  professed  unbounded  gratitude,  she  felt 
none  in  her  heart,  as  long  as  the  gift  of  her  son  was  withheld. 
It  is  true  she  was  not  suffered  to  enjoy  the  possession  of  these 
tokens  of  kindness  and  taste ;  for  if  she  put  on  an  additional 
ornament  to  her  dress,  Mrs.  Brown  would  taunt  her  with  her 
poverty,  and  the  necessity  of  conforming  in  appearance  to  her 
situation. 

It  was  the  evening  of  Rena's  visit  to  her,  that  she  took  her 
accustomed  twilight  walk.  The  house  was  so  remote  from 
others,  and  so  surrounded  by  woods,  one  could  ramble  about 
its  environs  with  as  much  freedom  as  if  they  lived  in  a  wil- 
derness. Mrs.  Brown  always  encouraged  her  to  exercise  at 
this  hour,  because  the  rays  began  to  be  too  indistinct  for  her 
to  sew,  and  she  did  not  like  to  waste  candles,  by  lighting  them 
too  early.  Long,  and  mild,  and  beautiful  are  the  twilights  of 
northern  latitudes ;  and  had  Stella,  when  released  by  *he 
task-mistress  she  detested,  opened  her  heart  to  the  sweet  influ 


154  RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD. 

ence  of  nature,  as  the  flower-cups,  to  receive  the  falling  dew, 
she  would  have  felt  her  parched  and  weary  spirit  strengthened 
and  refreshed.  She  wandered  along  the  skirt  of  the  wood, 
forming  wild  plans  of  escape  from  her  present  situation,  so 
irksome  and  galling.  Sometimes  she  thought  she  would  run 
away  and  travel  on  foot  to  the  metropolis  of  the  state,  begging 
by  day,  and  if  denied  shelter  at  night,  sleeping  under  the 
shadow  of  some  granite  wall,  or  some  way-side  tree.  Some 
rich  gentleman  might  take  pity  on  her  and  adopt  her,  for  all 
rich  gentlemen  were  not  haughty  and  cruel  like  Mr.  Lindsey. 
Sometimes  wrought  up  to  madness  by  the  recollection  of  the 
proud  Senator's  stinging  scorn,  she  would  turn,  where  his  tur- 
reted  roof  cast  an  ash-coloured  shade  on  the  sky,  and  resolve 
to  steal  in  the  darkness  of  night,  through  those  tall  poplars, 
and  kindle  with  incendiary  hand  the  stately  pile,  which  would 
then  become  the  grave  of  pride  and  the  altar  of  revenge.  This 
evening  one  reflection  cheered  her  in  her  solitude  j  it  was  that 
she  had  planted  a  sting  in  the  bosom  of  Rena,  keen  as  any 
she  herself  endured.  Little  did  Sherwood  think,  when,  after 
lingering  in  vain  for  Rena,  and  turning  his  course  homeward, 
he  suddenly  met  the  young  charity  girl,  and  saw  the  crimson 
cloud  so  beautifully  suffuse  her  cheek,  and  the  joy  that  irra- 
diated her  whole  face,  that  such  evil  thoughts  ever  found 
admission  in  her  youthful  breast. 

His  first  sensation  was  pleasure,  and  he  stopped  to  express 
it ;  his  next,  pain  and  mortification,  for  he  remembered  his 
promise  to  his  father,  and  as  there  was  no  danger  to  avert,  no 
protection  to  be  claimed,  he  felt  constrained  to  pass  on  with  a 
silent  bow. 

"  Mr.  Lindsey,"  cried  Stella,  in  a  soft,  low  voice,  "  surely 
you  are  not  too  proud  to  speak  to  one  to  whom  your  mother 
uas  been  so  kind  ?" 

Thus  addressed,  he  could  not,  without  a  rudeness,  of  which 
he  would  not  be  guilty,  avoid  speaking.  There  was  something, 


REN  A;   OR,   THE   SNOWBIRD.  155 

too,  so  sad  and  dejected  in  her  countenance,  so  plaintive  in 
her  tone,  he  thought  he  was  a  savage  to  treat  her  with 
neglect. 

"  No,  Stella,"  said  he,  "  I  am  not  governed  by  pride ;  but 
you  well  know,  that  I  am  not  master  of  my  own  actions,  as 
far  as  it  regards  yourself.  You  have  not  forgotten  the  dis- 
tressing scenes  at  our  house,  from  the  shock  of  which  my 
mother  has  not  yet  recovered.  To  avoid  a  repetition  of  the 
same,  disgraceful  and  harrowing  as  they  are,  I  have  bound 
myself  by  a  promise,  which  I  cannot,  in  honour,  break.  If  I 
could,  Stella,  I  would  gladly  show  all  the  kindness  of  a  brother 
and  the  sympathy  of  a  friend.  You  know  I  would ',  but  a 
promise  is  a  sacred  thing.  Farewell." 

Again  he  bowed  and  was  turning  hastily  away,  when  Stella, 
in  desperation,  on  seeing  the  opportunity  for  which  she  had 
been  panting,  thus  eluding  her  grasp,  sprang  forward  and  laid 
her  hand,  with  a  a  imploring  gesture,  on  his  arm. 

"  Alas  I"  she  cried,  "  I  have  no  friend  to  aid  me,  and  I  am 
BO  wretched,  so  very  miserable.  I  did  hope  that  I  might  look 
to  you  for  consolation,  for  where  else  can  I  turn  ?" 

"  What  can  I  do  for  you  ?"  said  he,  alarmed  by  her  uncon- 
trollable agitation.  "  Is  there  any  cause  of  misery  which  I  can 
remove  ?  any  evil  impending  that  I  can  avert  ?  Speak,  and 
tell  me  why  you  are  so  wretched." 

"  I  am  wretched  for  the  want  of  sympathy  !  wretched  be- 
cause there  are  none  but  hard  eyes  to  look  at  me,  harsh  voices 
to  speak  to  me.  After  listening  to  your  mother's  sweet  voice, 
to  your  kind  and  gentle  accents,  the  coarse  words  of  Mrs. 
Brown  are  wormwood  and  gall  to  my  spirit.  You  don't  know 
what  such  things  are  !  you  don't  know  how  bitter  is  the  bread 
of  dependence !" 

"  I  know  your  lot  is  a  hard  one,  Stella,  and  would  to  Hea- 
ven I  could  relieve  it.  But  I  am  not  the  only  one  frou  whom 
you  hear  kind  and  gentle  accents.  There  is  one  who  sought 


15b  RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD. 

you  to-day,  whose  heart  is  full  of  warm  and  generous  feelings. 
Surely  you  found  a  balm  in  Tier  sympathy  and  friendship." 

Stella,  who  was  still  clinging  to  his  arm  and  looking  be- 
seechingly in  his  face,  could  not  but  see  its  deepening  colour 
through  the  twilight's  shade,  while  he  made  this  allusion  to 
Rena.  He  had  seen  her  too,  known  her  purpose,  and  yet 
Rena  mentioned  it  not.  Could  she  have  devised  any  method 
by  which  she  could  have  depreciated  Rena,  without  incurring 
the  suspicion  of  slander,  envy,  or  jealousy,  she  would  gladly 
Lave  done  it;  but  there  was  something  about  Sherwood  that 
acted  as  a  counter-charm  against  duplicity  and  malice.  As  on 
his  brow  "  shame  was  ashamed  to  sit,"  so  in  his  presence  the 
malignant  passions  hid  themselves,  and  often  remained  in  a 
state  of  suspended  animation.  Once  before  Stella  had  felt 
this  magic  influence ;  and  now,  as  then,  a  vague  longing  for  a 
purer  and  better  nature,  a  desire  to  possess  his  esteem  and  ten- 
derness, rather  than  his  love,  a  wish  that  he  were  her  brother 
and  that  she  were  worthy  of  such  a  blessing,  stole  like  a  silver 
edging  on  the  murky  clouds  of  evil  that  were  rolling  over  her 
soul.  Perhaps,  if  Mr.  Lindsey  had  not  driven  her  from  his 
home,  if  he  had  not  placed  his  ban  upon  all  intercourse  with 
his  son,  this  influence  might  have  become  deep  and  abiding; 
these  angel  moments  might  have  grown  into  hours,  till  her 
epirit  acquired  a  habit  of  purity  and  goodness,  instead  of  the 
faint  and  transient  impulses  that  now  moved  it. 

The  shadows  of  twilight  grew  darker,  and  they  walked  along 
the  skirt  of  the  wood  towards  Mrs.  Brown's.  They  reached 
the  gate,  where  Sherwood  paused  and  said — 

"  Once  more,  let  me  urge  you,  Stella,  to  confide  and  trust 
in  Rena.  She  will  give  you  sympathy  and  kindness  far  more 
precious  than  I  can  impart.  Even  if  my  father  had  not  ex- 
acted from  me  the  solemn  promise  that  prevents  me  from  being 
a  free  agent,  my  visits  would  expose  you  to  censorious  remark. 
When  I  again  leave  home,  my  mother  can  perhaps  extend  to 


RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD.  157 

you  the  kindness  and  protection  I  know  she  longs  to  bestow. 
I  must  be  a  very  formidable  personage.  The  sooner  I  go  the 
better." 

f  Are  you  going  away  again  ?"  asked  Stella,  sadly. 

"  Why,  when  a  young  man  has  received  his  diploma,  and 
had  a  year's  finishing  in  foreign  lands,  it  is  time  for  him  to 
look  abroad  for  that  one  spot  on  the  broad  earth,  which  Provi- 
dence has  appointed  for  his  field  of  labour.  I  must  have 
something  better  to  do  than  gathering  wild-flowers  in  Robin 
Hood's  bower." 

Stella  remembered  the  wild-flowers  she  had  rejected  from 
the  hand  of  Rena. 

"  I  suspect  there  are  some  of  your  flowers," — her  evil  genius 
prompted  her  to  say — "  lying  in  our  yard.  Rena  threw  them 
there  a  short  time  since.  I  did  not  know  whose  hand  had 
culled  them,  or  they  would  have  had  value  in  my  eyes.  Ah  ! 
Sherwood  Lindsey,  if  Rena  cares  so  little  for  your  gifts  as  to 
cast  them  from  her  in,  disdain,  do  you  think  her  heart  is  so 
overflowing  with  sympathy  as  to  pour  balm  on  mine  ?" 

A  strong  desire  to  test  the  truth  of  her  words  induced  Sher- 
wood to  open  the  gate  and  accompany  Stella  to  the  door.  He 
had  been  drawn  into  a  partial  violation  of  his  word,  and  a  few 
steps  more  would  not  add  to  his  father's  displeasure  or  his  own 
self-reproach.  On  the  dewy  grass  lay  the  waxen  blossoms  in 
their  wreath  of  dazzling  green,  and  he  knew  they  had  been 
torn  from  Cygnet's  milk-white  brow  and  cast  unvalued  there. 
Had  he  known  that  Rena  had  been  excited  by  Stella's  artful 
representations  to  an  act  of  girlish  pique,  that  she  still  wore 
one  of  those  flowers  pressed  against  a  wounded  heart,  he  would 
have  forgiven  the  apparent  slight — he  would  have  rejoiced  iu 
this  proof  of  his  power.  But  now,  he  could  not  help  con- 
trasting the  eagerness  with  which  Stella  gathered  the  discarded 
blossoms,  with  Rena's  cold  disdain ;  and  he  believed  the  heart 
of  the  wild  Snowbird  was  as  cold  as  the  ice  that  sccn»\4  her 


158  RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD. 

native  element.  To  this  comparison  Stella  was  indebted  for 
an  affectionate,  lingering  adieu,  and  she  entered  the  house  with 
triumph  glittering  in  her  eyes.  She  expected  a  scolding  from 
Mrs.  Brown  for  staying  out  so  late,  and  for  allowing  a  young 
gentleman  to  accompany  her  home ;  but  fortunately  for  her, 
the  good  lady  was  busy  in  the  kitchen,  and  did  not  see  her 
return.  She  flew  up  stairs  into  her  little  room,  the  most  ill- 
furnished  and  uncomfortable  one  the  house  contained,  and 
adorned  her  mantel-piece  with  the  clustering  ivy.  She  did 
not  love  flowers  ;  but  these  had  belonged  to  Sherwood,  had  been 
given  to  Rena  (and  well  did  she  understand  the  feeling  that 
led  her  to  scatter  them  on  the  ground),  and  now  they  were  a 
badge  of  triumph  to  her,  an  omen  of  future  success.  With  a 
light  step  she  ran  to  assist  Mrs.  Brown,  who,  observing  her 
heightened  colour  and  brightened  countenance,  and  the  alacrity 
with  which  she  moved,  asserted  "  that  nothing  did  a  young 
girl  so  much  good  as  to  keep  her  steady  all  day,  and  let  her 
run  about  a  little  just  before  dark.  She  knew  how  to  bring 
them  up — there  was  no  dispute  about  that." 

Sherwood,  whose  character  was  clear  as  crystal,  loathed  the 
thought  of  a  clandestine  action.  He  could  not  bear  to  remain 
where  he  might  constantly  be  exposed  to  influences  unfavour- 
able to  ingenuousness  and  integrity  of  purpose.  He  told  his 
father  his  determination  to  go  at  once  to  the  metropolis,  and 
commence  the  study  of  that  profession  which  had  made  the 
name  he  had  the  honour  of  bearing  so  distinguished. 

"You  are  right,  my  son.  For  your  mother's  sake  I  did  not 
like  to  shorten  your  holidays,  but  I  rejoice  that  you  are  willing 
to  do  it  yourself.  Inaction  would  produce  rust  on  the  bright 
steel  of  your  spirit.  It  must  clash  against  other  blades,  and 
sparks  of  fire  will  be  elicited  by  the  collision.  Sherwood,  I 
have  no  doubt  of  your  success  in  life ;  I  have  followed  with  pride 
your  boyish  career ;  I  have  se«n  you  bearing  away  the  highest 
honours,  laurels  on  which  no  moral  blight  has  fallen , 


RENAJ   OR,   THE   SNOWBIRD.  159 

I  have  confidence  in  your  talents,  confidence  in  your  principles  j 
I  feel  that  I  have  a  son  who  will  sustain  the  honour  of  my 
name  and  fame,  when  I  shall  be  no  more." 

"  Talk  not  so,  my  father;  you  look  very  nearly  a»  young  as 
I  do,  and  when  I  shall  have  attained  the  maturity  of  manhood, 
you  will  still  be  wearing  only  the  green  palm  of  age." 

"  My  life  will  not  be  a  protracted  one.  I  have  lived  too  fast, 
my  son,  to  live  very  long.  Like  the  flame  fed  by  oxygen,  my 
spirit  ^urns  too  intensely  for  the  blaze  to  continue.  I  wonder 
there  are  no  wrinkles  on  my  brow,  no  furrows  on  my  cheeks. 
I  should  think  my  face  would  be  marked  by  lines  of  prema- 
ture age,  but  I  suppose  there  is  such  a  thing  as  a  subterranean 
ploughshare,  which  leaves  the  surface  smooth,  while  it  cuts 
deep  and  rough  within." 

Sherwood  looked  on  the  marble  smoothness  of  his  father's 
brow,  round  which  his  unblanched  ebon  locks  richly  waved, 
and  thought  it  a  tablet  of  strength  on  which  long  years  might 
be  written ;  but  there  was  a  light  in  his  eye,  which  seemed  like 
that  of  a  distant  lamp,  burning  in  those  subterranean  regions, 
where  the  ploughshare  of  thought  was  making  its  invisible 
furrows, — a  consuming  lustre  that  must  exhaust  too  rapidly 
the  oil  of  life. 

"  When  you  too  leave  home,  sir,"  said  Sherwood,  resolved 
to  urge  the  claims  of  the  poor  charity  girl  on  his  mother's  pro- 
tection, "  my  mother  will  be  alone.  Let  me  entreat  you  then, 
sir,  to  allow  her  the  solace  her  kind  heart  craves.  Let  her 
recall  the  poor  girl  who  has  been  banished  on  my  account,  and 
you  will  rejoice  in  the  consciousness  of  gratified  benevolence." 

Mr.  Lindsey's  smooth  brow  darkened  instantaneously. 

"  Sherwood,  what  is  this  girl  to  you  ?  I  thought  you  under- 
stood me  too  well  ever  to  mention  her  name  again." 

"  She  is  bound  to  me  by  the  common  interests  of  humanity," 
answered  the  young  man/undauntedly ;  "  and  I  am  not  ashamed 
to  advocate  her  rights.  If  my  mother  takes  a  maternal  interest 


160  RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD. 

in  her  desolate  lot,  if  she  herself  would  be  cheered  in  her  loneli- 
ness by  this  exercise  of  kindness,  and  if  I,  who  am  the  cause 
of  her  expulsion,  am  no  longer  near  to  terrify  and  endanger, 
or  to  be  endangered,  I  dare  to  say,  sir,  that  it  is  your  duty  as 
a  husband,  as  a  man,  and  as  a  Christian,  to  gratify  my  mother's 
wishes  and  permit  her  to  shelter  this  neglected  and  unfriended 
girl." 

As  Mr.  Lindsey  listened  to  his  son,  thus  openly  and  nobly 
pleading  in  behalf  of  deserted  and  innocent  orphanage,  remorse 
for  his  own  unprincipled  conduct  wrung  him,  for  a  moment, 
with  bitter  agony.  He  saw  that  the  interest  Sherwood  mani- 
fested was  pure,  manly  benevolence.  No  latent  passion  burned 
in  his  eye,  or  glowed  in  his  cheek.  But  to  have  Stella  an 
inmate  of  his  household  ! — it  was  impossible. 

"Say  no  more,  Sherwood — stop  at  the  limits  of  a  son's 
respect.  The  girl  shall  be  cared  for.  She  shall  not  suffer 
want  while  I  live.  If  this  promise  does  not  satisfy  your 
benevolence,  I  shall  believe  you  are  inspired  by  a  deeper 
interest — yes !  in  spite  of  the  blue-robed  girl  on  the  milk- 
white  horse." 

Sherwood  turned  away  vexed  and  discontented  by  this 
allusion  to  Rena.  His  father,  who,  it  may  be  recollected, 
had  met  him  when  riding  with  Ilena  on  horseback,  and  who 
had  been  exceedingly  struck  by  her  appearance,  failed  not  to 
question  him  closely  with  regard  to  her  name  and  lineage 
When  told  she  was  a  niece  of  Aunt  Debby,  alias  Mrs.  Wright, 
he  seemed  almost  as  much  annoyed  as  by  the  proximity  of  the 
charity  girl.  Sherwood  frankly  told  him  the  summary  man- 
ner in  which  he  had  been  dismissed  from  the  house,  and  his 
astonishment  at  the  bitter  feelings  that  the  mistress  of  Sunny 
Dell  cherished  for  the  master  of  Bellevue. 

"Never  expose  yourself  to  a  similar  insult,"  said  Mr. 
Lindsey.  "This  girl  is  no  companion  for  you,  either.  A 
poor  farmer's  daughter,  probably  brought  up  in  ignorance, 
and  accustomed  only  to  the  drudgery  of  a  kitchen." 


RENA;   OR,   THE   SNOWBIRD.  161 

Sherwood's  eyes  flashed  fire.  "  You  saw  her,  father — you 
know  she  is  no  kitchen  drudge.  Neither  is  her  father  a  poor 
farmer !  He  is  as  true  and  perfect  a  gentleman  as  ever  walked 
the  earth— one  of  the  independent  princes  of  our  land.  Brought 
up  in  ignorance !  your  own  son  cannot  read  Virgil  with  more 
fluency  than  his  daughter ;  and  her  knowledge  of  English  is 
equal  to  her  proficiency  in  the  classics  of  Greece.  Really, 
father,"  continued  he,  with  increasing  vehemence,  "  I  wonder 
whom  you  do  think  worthy  to  associate  with  your  honourable 
son  ?  I  have  no  royal  diadem,  no  ducal  crown  upon  my  brows, 
that  I  should  scorn  the  free-born  daughters  of  my  country  in 
this  manner  \" 

"You  disappoint  me,  Sherwood.  You  told  me,  not  long 
ago,  that  you  had  too  much  of  your  father's  pride  of  character 
to  form  associations  with  those  of  inferior  rank." 

"  I  said  of  low  birth  and  doubtful  lineage ;  and  I  say  so 
still.  I  have  a  great  deal  of  pride — a  pride  that,  I  hope,  will 
always  keep  me  from  a  mean  and  unworthy  act.  But  Colonel 
Fay  is  a  man  as  much  honoured  and  respected  in  his  immediate 
circle,  as  you  are  in  yours.  He  has  the  polish  of  a  gentleman 
as  well  as  the  noble  spirit  of  a  man — a  Cincinnatus,  who,  if 
called  from  the  plough,  could  preside  with  dignity  over  a 
nation's  weal !" 

This  conversation  occurred  the  evening  after  his  ride  with 
Rena,  and  till  this  moment  there  had  been  no  illusion  to  the 
subject.  The  sarcastic  curl  of  his  father's  lip  displeased  him, 
and  so  had  Rena  displeased  him.  He  did  not  like  to  speak  of 
her,  and  he  rejoiced  that  the  entrance  of  his  mother  interrupted 
the  interview  with  his  father. 

Several  times  had  Sherwood  called  at  Hannah's  cottage,  in 
the  vague  hope  of  meeting  Rena,  for  his  displeasure  could  not 
exist  long,  awakened  by  so  slight  a  cause.  He  had  not  given 
her  the  flowers  as  a  token  of  remembrance,  he  had  only  deco 
rated  her  horse-  with  them.  He  recalled,  too,  her  words  and  looks, 


162  RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD. 

so  full  of  sensibility,  and  memory  justified  his  early  favourite. 
As  the  time  drew  near  for  his  departure,  he  felt  that  he  could 
not  go  without  bidding  her  farewell.  Again  he  turned  his 
eteps  to  the  dairy-woman's  cottage,  and  learned,  with  bitter  dis- 
appointment, that  Rena  had  just  been  there  and  gone. 

"  Perhaps  she  will  return  this  way,"  said  Hannah,  "  for  she 
did  not  take  the  road  back  to  Sunny  Dell.  If  she  does  I  will 
call  her  in.  She  went  to  visit  a  poor  sick  woman,  yonder." 

"  She  will  not  come  in  if  she  sees  me,  so  it  will  do  no  good. 
If  Aunt  Debby  were  a  man,  I  would  go  and  fight  my  way 
across  the  threshold — but  a  woman,  and  such  a  woman  !  If 
Rena  were  surrounded  by  a  chain  of  fiery  serpents,  she  could 
not  be  more  effectually  guarded.  Hannah,  you  were  once  my 
guardian  angel, — devise  some  plan  by  which  I  can  see  her, 
without  shocking  her  sense  of  propriety,  and  I  will  worship 
you  as  a  tutelary  divinity." 

"  Now,  Master  Sherwood,  you  had  better  keep  your  college 
learning  for  her,  and  talk  plain  English  to  me.  I  will  ask  her 
to  come  any  time  you  please  to  mention,  without  telling  her  it 
is  you  who  want  to  see  her,  and  I  know  she  will  do  it,  she  is 
HO  obliging  and  sweet-tempered.  She  looked  sort  of  sober  to- 
day, quiet,  a  dove-like  kind  of  way,  not  natural  to  her.  I 
would  not  give  one  of  her,  for  fifty  thousand  Golden  Pippins, 
for  all  her  beauty." 

"Who  do  you  mean  by  Golden  Pippin,  Hannah, — Stella?" 

"  Yes,  Master  Sherwood,  I  called  her  so  when  she  was  six 
years  old,  and  I  can't  get  out  of  the  habit." 

Then  Hannah  related  the  history  of  the  Golden  Pippins,  in 
her  graphic  way,  and  many  other  little  anecdotes  of  her  child- 
hood, which  did  not  redound  much  to  her  praise. 

"  Then  Rena  was  always  kind  to  Stella?"  he  asked,  delighted 
to  draw  out  the  warm-hearted  dairy -woman,  on  a  subject  in 
which  he  felt  so  deep  an  interest. 

"  Yes,  that  she  was;  many's  the  scolding  she  got  from  Aunt 


RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD.  163 

Debby  on  her  account,  because  she  would  not  leave  her  in  dis- 
grace. She  always  helped  her  out  in  her  tasks,  and  shared 
everything  she  had  in  the  world  with  her,  which  is  more  than 
Stella  would  do  with  any  one.  Now,  I  never  did  despise  any 
one  because  they  are  poor,  Master  Sherwood ;  I  am  poor  myself, 
and  I  haven't  got  any  book  learning,  but  I  can  see  into  a  per- 
son az  straight  as  anybody,  and  I  never  did  like  that  charity 
girl,  any  way  you  can  fix  it;  she's  deceitful  as  an  adder  and  as 
cunning  as  a  fox ;  I  tried  to  tell  Miss  Rena  so,  but  she  put  her 
own  sweet  hand  right  on  my  lips,  and  would  not  let  me  say 
one  word  to  her  disparagement." 

Had  Hannah  been  gifted  with  the  eloquence  of  a  Demos- 
thenes, she  could  not  have  found  a  more  attentive  or  admiring 
auditor.  Sherwood,  who  refused  a  seat,  had  thrown  him- 
self carelessly  down  on  the  clover,  that  carpeted  the  yard,  by 
the  side  of  his  chubby  namesake,  who  seemed  literally  to  live 
in  clover,  while  his  mother  attended  to  her  household  duties. 
The  duty  to  which  she  was  now  devoting  herself,  while  she 
entertained  Sherwoodwith  incidents  connected  with  Rena's 
juvenile  years,  was  working  over  some  rich  golden  butter  in  a 
wooden  tray  as  white  as  milk.  There  was  a  nice  whitewashed 
stoup,  extending  forward  from  the  roof,  that  excluded  the  rays  of 
the  western  sun,  and  beneath  this  shelter  Hannah  carried  on 
many  of  the  mysteries  of  her  dairy,  in  a  more  public  manner  than 
is  usually  done.  She  could  enjoy  the  benefit  of  the  fresh  air, 
see  what  was  going  on  in  the  world,  and  above  all,  watch  her 
children  as  they  played  on  the  grass,  among  the  pink-headed 
clover  and  golden  buttercups.  In  her  neat  checked  apron,  her 
sleeves  rolled  up  above  her  plump  elbows,  her  cheeks  as  ruddy 
as  a  damask  rose,  Hannah  was  a  noble  representative  of  the 
female  peasantry  of  her  northern  clime.  With  a  small  wooden 
paddle  she  toiled  over  the  yellow  mass,  till  every  drop  of  but 
termilk  dripped  out,  then  moulding  it  into  immense  biscuits, 
she  stamped  them  vigorously  witL  her  practised  hand,  leaving 


164  RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD. 

beautiful  impressions  of  lilies  and  roses  and  sweet-smelling 
posies,  doomed  to  be  as  evanescent  as  the  flowers  whose  simi- 
litude they  assumed.  While  the  industrious,  smiling,  and 
handsome  matron,  worked  and  spatted  and  stamped  her  butter, 
Sherwood  senior  looked  up  from  his  rich  clover  bed,  reclining 
his  aristocratic-looking  head  on  his  left  elbow,  while  he  pulled 
buttercups  with  his  right  hand  and  tossed  over  the  curly  white 
head  of  Sherwood  junior,  who  held  out  his  little  fat  hands,  and 
seemed  boisterously  delighted  with  the  honours  showered  upon 
him.  It  was  not  a  very  dignified  position  for  the  son  of  the 
Hon.  Mr.  Lindsey,  but  he  loved  to  enact  the  boy  again,  and 
probably  enjoyed  more  his  green  embroidered  couch  and  leafy 
canopy,  than  the  elegant  sofas  in  his  mother's  drawing-room. 

"  Ah  !  Master  Sherwood,"  said  the  delighted  mother,  "  you 
ouglit  to  have  seen  Miss  llena  pet  that  child.  I  do  believe 
she  loves  it  on  account  of  its  name.  The  way  she  kissed  it 
you  never  did  see  !" 

"  Did  she  ?"  said  Sherwood,  laughing  and  blushing  like  a 
girl.  Then  catching  the  little  urchin  in  his  arms,  he  did  what 
young  men  seldom  do  to  little  boys,  however  young — kissed 
its  rosy  cheeks  with  hearty  good-will.  It  was  at  this  auspi- 
cious moment  that  Rena,  who  had  been  to  visit  a  sick  woman 
in  the  neighbourhood,  was  passing  the  cottage.  She  was  on 
foot — a  little  willow  basket,  now  empty,  but  lately  filled  with 
delicacies  for  an  invalid,  hung  upon  her  arm.  A  simple  mus- 
lin sun-bonnet  covered  her  head,  instead  of  the  blue-plumed 
riding  hat.  She  looked  exactly  like  a  young  school-girl  re- 
turning with  a  somewhat  weary  step  from  conning  her  daily 
tasks.  She  was  weary,  for  she  had  taken  a  long  walk,  and 
her  spirit  wanted  the  lightness  which  gives  elasticity  to  every 
step.  Hannah  stepped  nimbly  to  the  gate,  her  hand  all  the 
time  grasping  a  golden  ball,  which  Rena  might  have  supposed 
she  intended  throwing  at  her  head  had  she  been  of  a  pugna- 
cious dispositi  m,  so  sudden  and  unexpected  was  the  movement- 


RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD.  165 

"  Come  in,  Miss  Rena,"  cried  she,  "  and  take  a  glass  of  cool 
water,  right  from  the  well.  You  look  tired,  and  well  you 
may,  for  it  is  no  laughing  matter  to  walk  where  you  have 
been." 

"  Thank  you,  Hannah — I  had  better  not — I  am  only  a  little 
warm."  She  took  off  her  sun-bonnet,  and  her  hair,  to  which 
the  heat  had  given  a  kind  of  wave,  fell  loose  and  dark  over 
her  shoulders.  It  was  a  pity  she  ever  put  it  up  with  a  comb — 
this  wild,  floating  way  of  wearing  it  became  her  so  much.  It 
was  well  that  she  had  lost  her  comb  while  she  was  walking, 
since  Sherwood  saw  her  through  his  clover  curtain,  and  won- 
dered how  any  one  could  think  Stella  more  lovely  than  Rena. 
He  had  intended  to  remain  concealed  till  Hannah  had  induced 
her  to  enter ;  but  anything  like  deception  was  so  foreign  to  his 
nature  he  sprang  from  his  recumbent  attitude,  making  his 
namesake  turn  an  involuntary  somerset,  to  his  own  great  as- 
tonishment, and  greeted  her  at  the  gate  with  something  of  the 
gay  freedom  of  his  boyhood.  Hannah  had  carried  him  back 
so  vividly  to  old  times,  he  almost  forgot  they  were  not  both 
children.  Rena,  who  had  been  meditating  in  her  lonely 
walk,  a  pensive  moralist,  on  the  vanity  of  all  earthly  things  j 
who  was  thinking  the  world  was  getting  cold  and  dark,  in  spite 
of  the  bright  sun  that  was  gilding  the  sky;  felt  a  genial  warmth 
pervading  her  inmost  heart  as  Sherwood's  sunny  smile  beamed 
&o  unexpectedly  upon  her.  She  forgot  the  impression  Stella's 
artful  words  had  left  upon  her  mind — she  forgot  Aunt  Debb/s 
solemn  warning,  and  with  a  look  so  radiant  and  joyous  that 
Sherwood  thought  he  saw  again  the  "  sprite,  gipsy,  snowbird," 
of  the  scarlet  tiara.  She  suffered  herself  to  be  led  into  the 
porch,  and  then,  she  hardly  knew  how,  into  the  garden,  where 
Jemmy  had  constructed  a  pleasant  little  arbour,  and  trained 
over  the  lattice-work  a  grape  vine  of  unexampled  luxuriance. 

Jemmy  Bell's  garden  was  a  perfect  horticultural  gem.  Not 
a  weed  defaced  the  smooth,  square-cut,  parsley-margined 


166  RENAJ   OR,   THE   SNOWBIRD. 

where  long,  regular  rows  of  vegetables,  in  beautiful  and  well- 
ordered  families,  grew  side  by  side.  There  was  the  beet,  with 
its  red-veined,  richly  variegated  leaves,  and  crimson  roots,  half- 
hoisting  from  the  soil,  the  rich-orange-coloured  carrot  and 
parsnip,  with  luxuriant,  green  tufts.  Then  there  was  the 
melon  patch,  and  the  cucumber  patch,  the  vines  surrounded 
by  slender  hoops,  over  which  they  wantoned,  and  curled,  and 
mingled  their  tendrils  in  spite  of  all  restraint.  Along  the 
fence,  which  divided  it  from  the  barn-yard,  savoury  herbs  and 
medicinal  shrubs  appeared  in  harmonious  brotherhood.  This 
part  of  the  garden  was  Hannah's  peculiar  province,  and 
through  its  instrumentality,  she  became  a  benefactress  to  the 
whole  neighbourhood.  Did  any  feverish  sufferer  sigh  for  a 
decoction  of  soothing  balm,  Hannah  always  had  some  of  the 
leaves  dried  and  preserved  ready  for  relief.  Did  any  anxious 
housewife  experience  a  dearth  of  sage,  in  the  time  of  pork- 
killing  and  sausage  meat,  Hannah  always  had  a  supply  of  the 
odoriferous  seasoning.  She  had  chamomile,  wormwood,  and 
rue  for  tonics,  tansy  for  poultices,  and  peppermint  and  catnip 
for  little  babies.  Nor  was  she  without  her  floral  ornaments, 
for  Hannah  loved  flowers,  though  Stella  did  not.  Directly 
under  her  windows,  beyond  a  line  of  sweet-scented  lilacs, 
there  was  a  large  circle,  divided  into  various  parts,  by  flowers 
geometrically  arranged,  though  Hannah  was  no  pupil  of 
Euclid. 

The  equator  was  represented  by  a  row  of  yellow  marigolds, 
the  axis  by  the  deep  blue  larkspur,  and  variegated  touch-me- 
not.  Parallels  of  latitude  were  marked  by  sweet-williams  and 
pansies,  division  of  longitude  by  pinks,  daisies,  and  bachelor's 
buttons,  and  right  in  the  centre  of  this  magnificent,  flowery 
globe,  a  cluster  of  tall  sun-flowers  turned  their  golden  fore- 
neads,  and  bowed  their  adoring  heads  to  the  day-god,  whose 
glorious  name  they  bore.  On  a  rustic  seat,  in  the  vine-co- 
vered arbour  erected  on  the  borders  of  this  domestic  paradise, 


RENA;  on,  THE  SNOWBIRD.  167 

Sherwood  and  Kena  sat.  So  suddenly  had  she  been  trans- 
ported there,  without  any  apparent  volition  of  her  own,  she 
might  have  believed  it  the  transition  of  a  dream,  had  not  the 
warm  touch  of  life  from  the  hand  of  Sherwood,  in  which  her 
own  was  still  clasped,  assured  her  that  she  was  not  in  an  ideal 
world.  She  felt  too,  as  she  looked  into  the  luminous  darkness 
of  his  eyes,  that  he  was  one  of 

"  earth's  impassioned  sons, 
As  warm  in  love,  as  fierce  in  ire, 
As  the  best  heart  whose  current  runs, 
Full  of  the  day-god's  living  fire." 

These  lines  recurred  to  her,  from  the  matchless  poem  she 
had  just  been  reading,  and  all  the  poetry  of  her  nature  stirred 
within  her.  Again,  as  in  her  lonely  attic,  her  spirit  seemed  a 
weird-lyre,  and  the  voice  of  Sherwood  breathing  over  it,  waked 
music  from  every  chord.  The  little  pond  that  gleamed  like 
a  silver  cup,  in  the  neighbouring  field,  was  converted  into 
Oman's  sea,  the  homely  vegetables  into  Oriental  blossoms, 
the  arbour  in  which  she  sat  into  Hinda's  latticed  bower,  and 
she  herself  into  "El  Hassan's  blooming  child."  Sherwood 
ought  to  have  addressed  her  in  the  language  of  poetry,  but 
though  his  countenance  glowed  with  its  inspiration,  it  was 
simple  prose  that  flowed  from  his  lips. 

"I  am  going  away,  Rena.  In  a  few  days  I  shall  leave 
home,  to  commence  my  career  as  a  man.  I  am  going  to  the 
metropolis,  where  my  father  was  born,  to  adopt  his  profession, 
and  if  possible  adorn  it  as  he  has  done.  I  could  not  go  with- 
out seeing  you  again,  without  seeing  you  alone,  without — " 
He  hesitated,  and  Rena's  fluttering  heart  beat  loud  and  fast. 
To  hear  of  his  intended  departure  grieved  her,  but  the  unfi- 
nished sentence  gave  her  a  glimpse  of  happiness,  which  that 
fluttering  heart  was  scarcely  large  enough  to  hold. 

"  Speak,  Rena,"  continued  he,  "  and  utter  the  words  that 
die  upon  my  stammering  tongue." 

"How  can  I.  when  I  know  them  not?" 
45 


168  HEN AJ   OR,   THE   SNOWBIRD. 

"  Nay,  Rcna,  dear,  ingenuous  Rena,  you  do  know  them. 
You  have  divined  them.  You  do  know  that  I  love  you,  but 
you  can  never  know  how  tenderly,  entirely,  and  passionately  I 
love  you,  for  words  cannot  express  it.  Words !  cold  and  vain 
symbols !  Heart  only  can  speak  to  heart — lip  alone  to  lip." 

And  suiting  the  action  to  the  words,  he  drew  her  irresistibly 
closer  and  closer  to  him,  and  her  bashful  lips  trembled  under 
the  bold  eloquence  of  his. 

"  And  now,  Rena,"_said  he,  "  you  are  mine — I  feel  it,  with- 
out one  verbal  promise,  in  every  fibre  of  my  being  !  I  kissed 
you  when  you  were  a  little  child,  and  I  fled  from  Aunt  Debby' s 
lightning  eyes.  Again,  in  a  victorious  hour,  I  dared  to  press 
the  kiss  of  triumph  on  your  glowing  cheek.  And  now,  by  this 
first  kiss  of  acknowledged  love,  I  pledge  myself  to  you,  Rena, 
body  and  soul,  heart  and  life,  in  the  bonds  of  an  everlasting 
covenant !" 

Rena  could  not  speak — her  young  heart  was  brimming  with 
happiness  too  full  for  language.  Aunt  Debby  might  threaten 
and  warn,  Mr.  Lindsey  frown  and  forbid,  Stella's  syren  tongue 
bring  false  witness,  but  Sherwood,  whom  she  had  always  loved, 
— the  dauntless  boy,  the  fascinating  youth,  the  noble,  high- 
principled  young  man, — Sherwood  loved  her,  and  if  all  future 
time  were  dark,  and  every  moment  fraught  with  anguish,  this 
single  hour  of  felicity  was  sufficient  to  balance  an  age  of  wo ! 
All  at  once  she  thought  of  her  father,  and  her  own  extreme 
youth. 

"  My  father,  Sherwood ! — what  would  he  say  ?" 

"  He  would  say — '  God  bless  my  wild  Snowbird — she  haa 
built  her  nest  in  a  warm,  true  heart !' " 

"  But  Aunt  Debby—" 

"She  is  a  woman,  after  all,  and  has  a  heart — she  will 
relent." 

"  Yes !— she  has  a  warm,  excellent  heart.  She  loves  me, 
ana  would  not  like  to  see  me  miserable.  But  your  own 
father,  Sherwood  ! — oh !  I  fear  him — I  dread  him  I" 


RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD.  169 

"My  father!"  repeated  Sherwood,  and  a  cloud  came  over 
his  face.  He  had  forgotten  the  Hon.  Mr.  Lindsey  in  the 
excitement  of  the  moment,  and  the  contemptuous  manner  in 
which  he  had  spoken  of  the  farmer's  daughter.  "  My  father 
is  a  man  somewhat  to  be  dreaded.  I  cannot  conceal  from  you 
that  he  will  oppose  my  wishes;  but  I  am  now  of  age,  by  the 
laws  of  my  country,  and  though  I  might  sacrifice  my  own 
happiness  through  filial  reverence,  I  never  will  yours.  Yes  ! 
my  father  has  the  pride  of  a  demi-god,  and  if  he  knew  of  any 
feminine  angels,  he  would  certainly  woo  one  by  proxy  for  my 
bride.  No  mere  mortal  maiden  would  fill  the  measure  of  his 
ambition.  But  fear  him  not,  Rena ;  he  too  has  a  heart,  and 
loves  me  far  more  than  I  merit.  You  do  not  dread  my 
mother?" 

"  Oh,  no ! — she  looks  too  sweet,  too  heavenly,  to  inspire 
any  feeling  except  love.  But  Stella !" 

"  And  what  of  Stella !     Surely  you  are  not  in  awe  of  her  ?" 

"  I  thought  from  all  she  said, — but  perhaps  I  misunderstood 
her — that  you  felt  an  interest  in  her,  so  strong,  so  tender,  that 
she  would  look  upon  me  as  a  rival,  if  she  knew  what  had  passed 
even  now." 

Rena's  beautiful  velvet  eyes  were  fixed  anxiously,  not 
doubtingly,  on  Sherwood,  waiting  his  reply. 

"  I  fear  that  girl  is  false,  and  I  grieve  for  the  fear.  I  did 
feel  a  strong  interest  in  her  peculiar  situation,  and  as  I  knew 
I  had  been  the  indirect  cause  of  suffering  to  her  I  felt  more 
deeply  on  that  account  But  you,  Rena,  could  not  for  a 
moment  believe  that  after  knowing  you  I  could  have  evei 
loved  Stella?" 

"  She  is  so  beautiful ! — ten  thousand  times  more  beautiful 
than  I." 

"  I  see  that  she  is  beautiful — I  feel  you  to  be  so.  To  me 
there  is  the  difference  of  phosphorus  and  lightning — the  daz- 
zling polar  regions  and  the  rich,  warm,  glowing  tropics." 


170  RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD. 

"  That  will  do,  Sherwood.  If  you  like  me  better  than  Stella, 
I  would  not  exchange  with  her,  were  she  an  angel  of  light ! 
But  indeed  I  always  thought  myself  ugly." 

Sherwood  laughed  at  the  truthful  earnestness  with  which  she 
uttered  these  words.  Could  she  have  seen  herself  at  this  mo- 
ment, bathed  in  the  roseate  light  of  love  and  hope  and  joy,  she 
must  have  withdrawn  the  self-applied  epithet.  How  long 
she  sat  there  listening  to  Sherwood's  low,  melodious  voice,  the 
air  whispering  through  the  vine-wreaths,  lifting  here  and  there 
a  light  leaf,  to  let  a  slender  sunbeam  through,  and  the  shadows 
occasionally  creeping  through  the  lattice-work  and  playing  on 
her  dress,  she  never  knew.  She  must  have  forgotten  that  she 
had  to  walk  to  Sunny  Dell.  She  did  not  notice  that  the  sun, 
the  great  Reaper,  was  gathering  his  golden  sheafs  in  the  garner 
of  the  west. 

In  the  mean  time  some  counter  influences  were  approaching, 
as  unwelcome  as  unexpected.  It  chanced  that  the  Senator  was 
riding  out  that  very  afternoon  on  horseback ;  not  that  there 
was  anything  unusual  in  that,  but  it  happened  that  one  of  the 
shoes  of  his  horse  became  loose,  and  he  stopped  at  the  gate  to 
leave  word  for  Jemmy  Bell  to  come  and  take  the  animal  to  the 
blacksmith.  While  giving  the  dairy-woman  the  message  for 
her  husband,  his  eye  was  attracted  by  the  antics  of  the  child 
in  the  clover-bed,  who  was  drumming  on  a  hat,  which  he  was  cer- 
tain belonged  to  no  one  but  Sherwood.  •  A  pair  of  gloves,  too, 
lay  on  the  grass,  of  whose  identity  he  was  equally  sure. 

"  Is  my  son  here  ?"  he  asked  of  Hannah,  who,  conscious 
that  Sherwood  would  not  like  to  be  interrupted,  and  least  of 
all  by  his  father,  and  who  always  felt  disconcerted  in  the  pre- 
sence of  the  haughty  Senator,  stammered  and  blushed,  and 
said  she  believed  he  was. 

"  Where  is  he  ?" 

"  I  don't  know  exactly,  sir,  I'll  go  and  see,"  and  dropping 
her  butter  paddle,  she  walked  so  rapidly  into  the  garden,  that 


RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD.  171 

Mr.  Lindsey' s  suspicions  were  roused,  and  dismounting,  he 
threw  the  bridle  over  a  post,  opened  the  gate,  stepped  over  the 
wondering  baby,  and  taking  an  oblique  direction,  entered  the 
garden  by  a  side  gate,  and  encountered  Hannah  face  to  face, 
just  before  she  reached  the  arbour.  Waving  her  back  with 
an  imperious  gesture,  he  took  about  three  strides  across  the 
soft  grass,  and  stood  right  in  the  green  arch,  formed  by  the 
meeting  tendrils  of  the  vine.  Rena  felt  the  shadow  falling 
upon  them,  and  looking  up  beheld  the  stately  form  and  haunt- 
ing face  of  Mr.  Lindsey.  Starting  upon  her  feet  with  an  irre- 
pressible exclamation,  Sherwood  started  up  also,  and  met  his 
father's  dark  and  penetrating  glance.  No  frown  contracted  his 
marble  brow,  but  he  knew  his  father,  and  saw  that  the  subter- 
ranean fires  were  glowing  within  the  crater  of  his  breast. 
Determined  to  meet  the  exigency  of  the  moment,  with  the  best 
grace  he  could  command,  he  took  Rena's  shrinking  hand,  and 
leading  her  forward  several  paces,  introduced  her  as  the  daughter 
of  Colonel  Fay,  "  a  gentleman,"  he  added,  "  to  whose  hospi- 
tality, you  are  aware,  sir,  I  was  once  much  indebted." 

Though  Mr  Lindsey  was  excessively  angry  with  his  son  for 
scorning  his  advice,  and  braving  his  authority,  with  respect  to 
the  farmer's  daughter,  he  nevertheless  felt  an  unspeakable 
relief,  when  he  discovered  that  Stella  was  not  his  companion 
in  the  lonely  arbour.  The  only  notice  he  condescended  to  take 
of  the  introduction  was  a  cold  and  distant  bow,  for  which 
haughty  courtesy,  Rena  was  constrained  to  be  very  grateful, 
as  she  had  probably  wrought  herself  up  to  the  expectation  of 
seeing  a  naked  scimitar  flashing  over  her  head,  or  perhaps  a 
bowl  of  poison  presented  to  her  lips,  or  some  such  dire  alter- 
native, such  a  dark,  fearful  picture  had  she  formed  of  Sher- 
wood's father,  the  perjured  lover  of  Aunt  Debby's  youth. 

"  Sherwood,  follow  me,"  said  his  father;  "  I  am  in  haste,  and 
require  your  company." 

It  was  a  pity  he  had  not  softened   the  authority  of  hia 


172  RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD. 

manner.  It  was  a  pity,  too,  that  he  used  the  word  require 
instead  of  desire,  for  Sherwood,  though  he  disdained  the  pride 
of  wealth  and  rank,  had  a  spirit  indomitable  as  his  own,  that 
rebelled  against  coercion,  and  what  he  deemed  the  unjust  exer- 
cise of  power.  Still  he  knew  the  respect  due  to  a  father,  and 
curbing  the  feelings  that  dictated  a  different  reply, 

"  I  will  follow  you,  sir,"  said  he,  "  but  if  your  business  is 
tot  too  pressing,  I  should  like  to  accompany  this  young  lady 
part  of  her  homeward  way.  It  is  getting  late,  and  she  has  far 
to  walk." 

"  You  should  have  considered  that  before  detaining  her 
here,  for  I  cannot  brook  delay." 

"  Indeed,"  interrupted  Rena,  "  I  would  much  prefer  re- 
turning alone ;  I  do  not  wish  any  companion ;  and  I  know 
Aunt  Debby — "  She  stopped,  her  earnestness  had  carried 
her  too  far.  It  seemed  almost  sacrilege  to  mention  the  name 
of  her  injured  aunt  before  the  betrayer  of  her  heart. 

It  is  strange !  Kena  had  never  been  thought  to  resemble 
her  aunt ;  but  Mr.  Lindsey,  who  well  remembered  her  bright 
and  blooming  youth,  traced  a  striking  similitude  to  her  in  the 
countenance  of  her  niece.  He  had  known  her  when  love  and 
passion  had  lent  their  shifting  rays  to  the  large,  dark  iris  of 
her  eyes,  their  light  and  shade  to  the  mutable  roses  of  her 
cheek.  As  he  looked  on  this  young  girl,  already  under  the 
influence  of  that  monarch  passion,  which  stamps  all  future  life 
with  weal  or  woe,  and  knew  that  his  own  son  had  awakened 
its  power — that  other  self  of  his,  which  ofttimes  haunted 
him  like  an  unlaid  ghost,  whispered  in  his  ear,  that  here 
might  be  another  victim — that  years  hence  she,  too,  might 
become  a  cold  petrifaction  like  her  aunt,  or  a  withered, 
bl  ighted  blossom,  like  one,  once  fair,  and  innocent,  and  loving 
as  herself,  and  sink  into  an  unknown  and  dishonoured  grave. 

"You  have  sacrificed  your  youth  on  the  altar  of  unhallowed 
passion/'  continued  the  phantom-self;  "your  manhood  to  the 


REN AJ    OR,   THE   SNOWBIRD.  173 

Moloch  of  ambition.  You  have  offered  as  burnt-offerings  to 
your  idol  divinities  truth,  honour,  and  justice,  and  the  god  of 
this  world  has  accepted  the  flaming  holocaust.  But  let  your 
son,  if  he  choose,  bow  down  to  another  shrine.  Bid  him  not 
bend  the  knee  to  Baal,  when  his  soul  pays  homage  to  the  God 
of  nature  and  of  love.  Oh  !  cold  and  hard  of  heart  yourself, 
chill  not,  harden  not,  by  selfish  policy  and  worldly  wisdom, 
the  young,  warm,  and  panting  hearts  before  you." 

Thus  whispered  the  accusing,  warning  phantom,  while  Kena 
thrilled  under  the  fascination  of  his  gaze.  The  moment, 
however,  he  turned  his  glare  upon  his  son,  she  felt  it  was  her 
duty  to  withdraw,  so  that  her  presence  need  offer  no  obstacle 
to  Sherwood's  obedience  to  his  father.  It  required  some  reso- 
lution to  pass  so  near  that  proud  form  as  she  must  do  to  find 
egress  through  the  leafy  arch ;  but  what  she  thought  right 
she  never  lacked  courage  to  perform. 

"  Will  you  permit  me  to  pass,  sir  ?"  she  asked,  pushing 
aside  the  leaves,  like  the  drapery  of  a  curtain,  so  as  to  widen 
the  passage.  Gliding  through,  without  suffering  the  folds  of 
her  dress  to  come  in  contact  with  him,  and  casting  back  on 
Sherwood  a  glance,  that  needed  no  interpreter,  she  flew  into 
the  shadow  of  the  lilac  trees,  through  the  house,  into  the 
porch,  where  Hannah  was  waiting  with  trepidation  the  result 
of  the  interview. 

"  I'm  so  sorry,"  cried  Hannah ;  "  I  could  not  help  it !  If 
Master  Sherwood  hadn't  forgot  his  hat  and  gloves,  it  wouldn't 
have  happened." 

"  It  is  no  matter  now,  Hannah,  I  ought  not  .to  have 
stopped,"  said  Kena,  her  hands  trembling  so  that  she  could 
scarcely  tie  the  strings  of  her  bonnet.  It  was  not  from  fear, 
but  ten  thousand  new  and  strange  emotions. 

"  Dear  me  !"  exclaimed  the  good  dairy-woman,  "  and  to 
think  of  your  walking  home,  when  you  are  in  such  a  flurry 
Where  is  your  pretty  white  horse  ?" 


174  RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD. 

"It  is  a  little  lame,  and  I  would  not  ride  him  to-day. 
Good-bye,  Hannah,  and  tell  Sherwood,  if  you  meet  him  alone, 
that  he  must  not  try  to  see  me  again  before  he  goea.  Bid  him 
good-bye  for  me,  and  tell  him — "  She  either  forgot  what  she 
had  to  say,  or  something  was  the  matter  with  her  throat 
which  choked  the  words,  for  she  squeezed  Hannah's  hand,  and 
ran  through  the  gate  without  finishing  the  sentence  she  had 
begun. 

Hannah  was  vexed  with  Mr.  Lindsey,  and  she  was  vexed 
with  the  baby  for  drumming  so  furiously  on  Sherwood's  hat, 
and  thus  attracting  the  attention  of  his  father;  and  as  she 
could  not  vent  her  anger  on  the  illustrious  Senator,  she  did 
what  many  a  one  has  done  before,  wreaked  it  on  the  weak  and 
innocent.  She  caught  up  the  little  drummer,  who  fixed  his 
round  eyes  in  astonishment  on  her  face,  not  knowing  what  he 
had  done  to  inspire  such  a  sudden  desire  to  behold  him  so 
near,  and  gave  him  a  smart  maternal  slap.  Such  an  extraor- 
dinary ebullition  of  temper  on  her  part,  for  Hannah  was  gene- 
rally just  and  good-natured,  might  well  justify  the  extraordinary 
effect  produced.  The  little  gentleman  held  his  breath  till  the 
pink  of  his  cheeks  turned  a  deep  purple,  and  his  lips  looked 
as  if  stained  with  blackberries,  like  the  babes  of  the  woods — 
then  suddenly  there  burst  from  his  throat  an  accumulated 
volume  of  sound,  as  if  all  the  wrongs  of  babyhood  were  con- 
centrated in  his  single  pair  of  lungs.  At  this  particular 
moment  Mr.  Lindsey  and  his  son  passed  through  the  yard. 
Hannah  was  deeply  mortified,  for  she  had  a  great  pride  in 
having  it  so  often  said  that  she  had  the  best  children,  the 
quietest  babies  in  the  neighbourhood,  that  she  had  a  peculiar 
talent  in  managing  them.  This  mortification  was  enhanced 
by  self-reproach  for  having  punished  the  blameless  infant  for 
another's  fault ;  and  when,  after  having  soothed  the  vociferous 
warbler  by  her  caresses,  it  grasped,  with  reviving  spirit,  a  lump 
of  nice  stamped  butter  from  the  platter,  and  defaced  the  rose 


RENA;  OB,  THE  SNOWBIRD.  175 

with  its  dimpled  hands,  she  suffered  the  real  act  of  disobedi- 
ence to  escape  unpunished.  This  soothed  her  conscience,  and 
with  her  usual  serenity  and  activity  she  finished  the  duties  of 
the  day. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

"  I  hail  thy  house  of  prayer — 

New  England's  banquet  day — 
For  the  sweetest  joys  of  life's  young  hours, 

We.re  born  beneath  thy  ray." 

,  THANKSGIVING  GREETING. 

$  "  The  wintry  west  extends  his  blast, 

And  hail  and  rain  does  blaw ; 
Or,  the  stormy  north  sends  driving  forth 

The  blinding  sleet  and  snaw : 
While  tumbling  brown,  the  burn  comes  down, 

And  roars  frae  bank  to  brae  ; 
And  bird  and  beast  in  covert  rest, 

And  pass  the  heartless  day."  BURNS. 

IN  our  last  chapter  the  vine  wreaths,  rich  and  flourishing, 
covered  the  arbour;  the  flowers,  gay  and  abundant,  gave 
beauty  to  the  eye  and  fragrance  to  the  senses ;  and  the  sun,  as 
he  travelled  the  resplendent  path  of  the  Zodiac,  was  passing 
through  the  burning  sign  of  Leo. 

Now  the  grape  leaves  are  shrivelled  and  brown,  or  all  borne 
away  on  the  wild  northern  blast ;  the  flowers  are  gone  like  a 
vanished  rainbow ;  and  the  wintry  sun  is  moving  through  tho 
starry  bow  and  silver  arrows  of  Sagittarius. 

The  Hon.  Mr.  Lindsey  and  his  wife  are  at  the  capital  ot  our 
country ;  their  son  is  in  the  metropolis  pursuing  his  profes 
sional  studies ;  and  Aunt  Debby  is  gone  with  Rena  to  spend 
the  thanksgiving  day  at  the  home  of  her  brother,  where  Henry, 


176  RENAJ   OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD. 

the  young  collegian,  is  passing  his  winter  holidays.  She  is 
also  accompanied  by  another  very  unexpected  guest. 

It  chanced  that  the  lady  to  whom  Stella  was  transferred 
when  her  time  with  Mrs.  Brown  expired,  was  called  away  un- 
expectedly from  home,  and  requested  Aunt  Debby  to  take  her 
into  her  household  till  her  return.  She  did  this  reluctantly, 
on  Rena's  account ;  but  Rena,  happy  in  the  consciousness  of 
Sherwood's  undivided  love,  and  looking  with  charity  on  all 
mankind,  put  the  most  amiable  construction  on  Stella's  con- 
duct. She  believed  that  she  had  deceived  herself,  rather  than 
that  she  had  sought  to  deceive  her.  She  pitied  her  so  much, 
ehe  was  glad  to  have  an  opportunity  of  showing  her  the  kind- 
ness of  a  sister  j  and  then  it  was  exquisite  delig*ht  for  the  un- 
envying  Rena  to  sit  and  gaze  on  the  lovely  star-eyed  girl. 
When  Colonel  Fay  wrote  for  his  daughter  and  sister  to  come 
and  pass  the  festival  of  the  year  with  them,  Stella  was  still  at 
Sunny  Dell,  and  Rena  entreated  permission  of  Aunt  Debby 
to  take  her  with  them. 

"  It  would  be  cruel  to  leave  her  behind,"  she  said,  "  as  she 
has  no  home  of  her  own  to  receive  her  on  this  blessed  banquet 
day.  You  will  see  my  brother,"  she  cried,  turning  to  Stella, 
"  my  own  darling  brother  Henry.  Oh  !  he  is  the  most  beau- 
tiful boy  in  the  world.  Boy  !  I  ought  not  to  call  him  so ;  he 
is  eighteen  years  old,  almost  nineteen.  And  my  father, 
Stella,  you  will  see  him  too.  You  did  when  you  were  a  very 
little  girl,  but  you  do  not  recollect  him.  You  do  not  know 
what  a  father  I  have.  He  is  such  a  noble-looking  man,  so 
tall,  so  grand,  so  good  and  gentle.  He  reminds  me  of  a  forest 
tree,  so  strong  that  the  tempest  cannot  bend  it,  and  yet  the 
little  birds  make  their  nests  in  its  boughs  and  shelter  their 
young  ones  in  its  leaves.  Is  it  not  true,  Aunt  Debby  ?  Did 
you  ever  know  a  man  so  perfect  as  my  father  ?" 

"  He  is  a  good  man,  Rena — one  of  the  best,  yes !  the  very 
best  I  ever  knew  !" 


RENAJ   OB,   TELE   SNOWBIRD.  177 

"  And  my  mother,  my  step-mother,  Stella,  you  will  love 
her  dearly  j  she  is  so  kind.  I  once  dreaded  the  idea  of  a 
step-mother,  but  now  I  am  grateful  to  Heaven  for  having 
bestowed  on  me  so  great  a  blessing.  Dear  Aunt  Debby,  too, 
my  other  mother,  who  has  made  Sunny  Dell  a  dear,  beloved 
home  to  me." 

In  her  overflowing  enthusiasm,  she  enumerated  the  treasures 
of  her  heart  and  home,  when  she  recollected  that  it  might 
seem  like  boasting  to  the  parentless  and  brotherless  charity 
girl,  and  with  instinctive  delicacy  she  paused. 

"  Are  these  all  your  blessings,  Rena  ?  have  you  omitted 
none  in  the  long  list  ?"  asked  Stella. 

"  Oh,  no,  ten  thousand  others  are  mine — too  many  for 
tongue  to  tell,"  she  answered,  but  her  crimsoned  cheeks  told 
of  a  treasure  more  dear,  more  precious  than  all,  concealed 
within  her  heart  of  hearts, 

"  With  pious  ardours  worshipped  there, 
And  never  mentioned  but  in  prayer." 

It  was  Thanksgiving  morning — the  banquet  day  of  New- 
England  ;  the  day  on  which  man  makes  a  covenant  of  grati- 
tude with  his  Maker  for  the  golden  harvest,  the  ripened  fruit, 
the  gathered  grain,  and  all  the  blessings  the  rolling  year  has 
brought.  The  day  when  the  scattered  members  of  the  house- 
hold gather  beneath  the  paternal  roof,  and  the  severed  links  of 
family  love  are  united  again  into  one  strong  and  brightening 
chain.  A  day,  to  which  every  true  son  and  daughter  of  th« 
granite  hills  of  New  England  will  look  back  with  deep  emo- 
tion, whether  they  dwell  beneath  the  sunny  skies  of  the  south, 
or  have  passed  with  bolder  wing  beyond  the  Atlantic  wave. 

On  this  time-honoured  anniversary,  Rena  sat  down  at  her 
father's  bounteous  board.  The  travellers  had  arrived  late  the 
preceding  evening,  cold  and  weary,  and  though  the  joy  of 
meeting  triumphed  for  a  while  over  bodily  fatigue,  they  found 


178  RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD. 

more  attractions  in  a  warm  bed  and  promised  rest  than  social 
communion.  Now  refreshed  and  invigorated  they  met  around 
a  table,  which  well  represented  an  altar  where  the  incense  of 
grateful  and  adoring  hearts  went  up,  mingling  with  the  smoke 
of  the  viands  and  the  odour  of  the  spices.  It  was  a  charming 
family  group.  Behind  a  majestic  turkey,  the  monarch  of  the 
board,  whose  bright,  brown  skin  was  embroidered  with  the 
parsley's  emerald  sprigs,  appeared  the  lofty  form  of  Colonel 
Fay,  his  fine  blue  eye  shedding  a  benignant  lustre  on  the 
domestic  shrine.  Opposite  to  him,  presiding  over  a  miracle  of 
pastry,  in  the  form  of  a  magnificent  chicken  pie,  sat  the  ami- 
able step-mother,  who  had  caused  a  perpetual  thanksgiving  in 
the  home  she  had  entered,  licna  would  have  a  seat  on  one 
side  of  her  father,  and  she  placed  Stella  on  the  other,  and 
there  he  shone  in  the  zenith  of  manhood,  between  the  morn- 
ing-glory of  Stella's  beauty  and  the  star-light  brightness  of 
Kena. 

Aunt  Debby,  over  whose  toilet  Rcna  had  carefully  presided, 
astonished  her  brother  by  her  softened  and  lady-like  appear- 
ance. She  had  become  so  accustomed  to  braided  hair  and 
lace  collars,  that  she  no  longer  thought  she  "looked  like  a 
fool,"  with  these  adornments,  and  forgot  she  had  ever  dis- 
pensed with  them.  Henry,  the  fair  and  beautiful  youth,  with 
brow  of  alabaster,  and  locks  of  silk,  and  smooth,  "  unrazored 
lip,"  sat  next  his  sister,  basking  in  the  blaze  of  loveliness 
beaming  on  him  from  the  opposite  side.  He  could  not  eat, 
though  his  plate  was  crowded  with  luxuries ;  he  was  faint  as 
from  a  coup-de-soleil.  Such  pencils  of  starry  rays  kept  play- 
ing lambently  over  his  face,  he  was  literally  dazzled  and  be- 
wildered. Stella  saw  the  effect  she  had  produced,  and  exulted 
in  it.  She  felt  no  admiration  herself  for  Henry's  girlish 
beauty,  which  gave  to  his  person  such  an  air  of  extreme 
youth,  that  she  could  look  upon  him  only  as  a  boy ;  but  her 
vanity  was  gratified  by  the  spontaneous  homage,  and  her 
cheeks  glowed  with  rosier  brilliancy. 


RENAJ   OR,   THE   SNOWBIRD.  179 

t(  Children,"  said  the  Colonel,  looking  benevolently  round 
him,  "you  are  not  doing  justice  to  your  mother's  Thanksgiv- 
ing feast,  Rena,  my  darling,  is  it  possible  you  have  laid 
down  your  knife  and  fork  ?  Henry,  this  will  never  do.  We 
shall  mark  you  as  an  ingrate  if  you  do  not  eat.  Young  lady, 
you  must  feed  your  blooming  roses." 

"  Is  our  gratitude  to  be  measured  by  the  food  we  consume, 
father  ?"  asked  Rena.  "  Is  it  out  of  the  abundance  of  the 
heart  that  the  mouth  eateth  f" 

"  I  do  not  know  that  I  would  make  it  a  gauge  of  morals," 
answered  her  father,  smiling  on  his  favourite,  "but  where 
much  is  given,  much  is  required." 

Their  plates  were  now  exchanged,  for  those  containing  tri- 
nngular  pieces  of  the  different  families  of  pies  and  tarts  of 
every  hue  and  taste,  from  the  glowing  crimson  of  the  cran- 
berry, to  the  deep  orange  of  the  pumpkin. 

Rena,  whose  appetite  was  already  satiated,  began  to  twirl 
her  plate  rapidly  round,  to  the  astonishment  and  alarm  of  her 
right-hand  neighbour. 

"  What  are  you  doing,  merry  one  ?"  asked  the  Colonel. 

"  I  am  trying  an  experiment,  that  I  remember.  I  want  to 
see  If  I  can't  turn  this  rainbow  into  a  milk-white  wheel,  bj 
making  the  rays  mingle." 

"  Take  care  you  don't  deposit  your  rainbow  in  our  laps," 
said  Aunt  Debby,  seeing  Henry's  coat  powdered  by  the  white 
sugar,  that  flew  off  during  the  gyrations.  It  was  a  happy 
meal.  Rena  was  as  completely  a  child,  as  when  she  capti- 
vated Sherwood's  boyish  imagination.  She  was  so  wild  with 
joy  at  being  once  more  at  her  father's  side,  her  spirit  effer- 
vesced and  sparkled  in  all  kinds  of  innocent  gayety.  She 
brought  her  cat  to  the  table,  a  beautiful,  privileged  house- 
hold animal,  with  a  skin  like  down,  white  as  a  snow-drift, 
only  a  spot  of  grayish  brown  on  each  temple,  and  eyes  of  soft 
dark  gray,  instead  of  the  light  green  hue  peculiar  to  the 


180  RENA;  OR,  THE  SNC  WEIRD. 

feline  race;  and  putting  a  piece  of  pie  in  its  velvet  paws,  it 
Bat  purring  gravely  and  quietly,  looking  up  occasionally  at  its 
young  mistress  with  a  countenance  of  ineffable  complacency. 
Even  a  common  cat  crowns  with  beauty  a  domestic  scene — 
what  grace  then  must  such  a  beautiful,  gentle  creature  have 
imparted  to  the  group,  in  the  lap  of  our  bewitching  Rena. 

"  If  Cygnet  were  only  here  1"  she  exclaimed. 

"  You  would  bring  him  to  the  table  too,  I  suppose  ?"  said 
Aunt  Debby. 

Rena  with  eloquent  tongue  described  her  milk-white  favour- 
ite, and  dwelt  enthusiastically  on  the  kindness  of  Aunt  Debby 
in  making  her  such  a  present,  but  the  memory  of  Sherwood 
was  associated  with  Cygnet,  and  she  sighed  to  think  the  festi- 
val of  gratitude  must  pass  unshared  by  him. 

The  day  was  clouded,  the  sky  wearing  the  pale,  leaden  hue, 
that  marks  the  gathering  snow-storm.  A  bleak  wind  was 
blowing  from  the  north-east,  but,  seated  by  the  roaring  chim- 
ney, no  one  thought  of  the  inclemency  of  the  elements. 

It  is  customary  to  hallow  a  portion  of  the  day  by  religious 
exercises,  and  the  bell  of  the  village  church  sent  forth  its 
deep,  mellow  sound  on  the  northern  blast,  summoning  man  to 
the  worship  of  his  Maker. 

"  Is  it  not  too  cold  to  venture  out  this  morning  ?"  asked 
Henry,  gazing  on  the  warm  roses  of  Stella's  cheeks. 

"  I  think  it  is,"  said  Aunt  Debby,  warming  her  hands  by 
the  ruddy  blaze. 

"  So  do  I,"  repeated  Stella,  not  insensible  to  the  personal 
comfort  she  was  enjoying  by  that  glowing  fireside. 

"  And  I,"  cried  Rena,  who,  instead  of  sitting  down  with 
the  rest,  was  running  about,  opening  little  cupboards  and 
drawers,  to  see  if  everything  looked  as  it  did  when  she  left 
home,  "  I  would  not  stay  at  home  for  the  world !  I  want  to 
see  our  dear,  good,  beloved  minister.  I  want  to  hear  his  deep, 
magnificent  voice,  to  meet  his  benign  glance,  and  clasp  hia 


RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD.  181 

kind,  parental  hand  in  mine.  Oh !  Stella,  he  is  one  of  the 
treasures  I  was  ungrateful  enough  not  to  mention—  dear, 
excellent  Doctor  Clifford.  Henry,  have  you  seen  him  yet  ?" 

"  No — I  have  not  been  abroad." 

"  Then  come  with  me,  my  brother.  Shame,  if  the  cold 
keeps  you  at  home  which  he,  you  know,  must  brave !" 

"  That's  right,  my  little  Snowbird  \"  cried  her  father,  pat- 
ting her  on  the  shoulder.  "I  do  believe  you  have  wings 
folded  up  here !  A  warm  heart  thaws  the  winter's  cold. 
There  is  warmth  enough  in  this  one  little  heart  to  melt  the 
ice  of  the  poles !  Sister  Debby,  do  you  not  agree  with  me 
now  ? — you  disputed  my  philosophy  years  ago." 

"  I  know  she  has  thawed  some  of  the  ice  that  was  incrust- 
ing  the  polar  regions  of  my  heart,"  replied  Aunt  Debby, 
looking  affectionately  at  lleua.  "I  believe  I  am  renewing 
my  youth  in  hers.  Do  you  see,  brother,  what  a  fool  she  haa 
made  of  me  ?" 

"I  see  how  exceedingly  improved  and  beautiful  you  are, 
sister  Debby ;  and  if  Rena's  little  fingers  have  anything  to 
do  with  the  transformation,  it  is  another  proof  of  the  magic  of 
her  touch.  I  always  felt  sorry  to  see  one  to  whom  nature 
has  been  so  liberal,  neglectful  of  her  gifts.  A  woman  never 
can  be  careless  of  her  dress  and  personal  appearance  without 
losing  something  of  the  delicacy  and  refinement  of  feeling 
peculiar  to  her  sex." 

"I  was  fond  enough  of  dress  when  a  girl.  Don't  you 
remember  how  I  used  to  wind  garlands  of  wild-flowers  in  my 
hair?" 

"  Yes,  and  how  handsome  you  looked.  You  was  as  wild  a 
gipsy  then  as  our  Rena." 

"  Oh  !  this  is  all  nonsense,"  cried  Aunt  Debby,  smothering 
a  sigh.  "  Let  us  all  go  to  church." 

So  Rena,  as  usual,  prevailed ;  and  to  church  they  all  went, 
except  Mrs.  Fay,  who  remained  at  home  to  send  baskets  of 


182  RENAJ   OR,   THE   SNOWBIRD. 

provisions  to  the  poor,  whom  she  remembered  in  her  own 
overflowing  abundance.  The  church  was  built  on  a  gradual 
eminence,  sloping  towards  the  south,  in  the  centre  of  a  smooth 
common,  which  in  summer  was  the  colour  of  the  most  bril- 
liant emerald.  Now,  it  was  covered  with  a  cold,  white  carpet, 
which  retained  the  print  of  every  foot  that  pressed  it.  The 
lofty  spire  of  the  edifice  looked  like  a  pillar  of  white  marble, 
supporting  the  lead-coloured  arch  above.  The  first  glimpse 
of  those  consecrated  walls  made  Rena's  heart  glow  withiu 
her ;  but  when  she  entered  and  saw  the  venerated  form  of  her 
beloved  pastor,  bending  over  the  sacred  desk, — when  she  heard 
the  tones  of  a  voice  which  always  sounded  like  the  music  of 
heaven  to  her  ear,  her  eyes  filled  with  tears,  and  all  the  memories 
of  her  childhood  clustered  around  her.  It  was  his  hand  that 
had  shed  the  dew  of  baptism  on  her  infant  brow.  It  was  his 
prayers  that  had  hallowed  the  grave  of  her  mother.  It  was 
he  who  had  gently  led  her  through  the  green  fields  and  by  the 
still  waters,  and  taught  her  to  worship  and  love  the  God  who 
created  and  the  Saviour  who  had  redeemed  her.  There  he 
stood  leaning  over  the  crimson  velvet  cushion,  the  crimson 
curtains  hanging  in  rich,  voluminous  folds  behind,  in  his  flow- 
ing black  surplice  and  milk-white  bands ;  his  cheek  pale,  save 
where  the  glow  of  inspiration  was  just  beginning  to  dawn,  his 
brow,  where  benevolence  and  intellect  sat  enthroned  in  mingled 
benignity  and  majesty,  slightly  shaded  by  the  dark-brown  hair, 
now  sprinkled  with  silvery  gray — as  perfect  a  representative  of 
an  apostle  of  Jesus  Christ  as  ever  adorned  the  sacerdotal  pro- 
fession. But  when  he  opened  his  lips,  and  that  voice,  deep, 
sweet,  and  solemn  as  the  diapason  of  an  organ,  swelled  on  the 
ear,  and  rolling  round  the  arching  wall,  filled  every  corner  of 
the  building  with  its  magnificent  volume,  the  soul  seemed  to 
float  upward  on  those  deep  billows  of  sound,  like  a  bark  on  the 
rising  tide. 

May  we  be  allowed  to  pause  one  moment  here,  to  pay  an 


RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD.  183 

humble  tribute  to  the  memory  of  one,  whose  evangelical  ex- 
cellence resembled  the  character  here  delineated ;  one  who, 
with  talents  that  might  have  commanded  a  wide  and  elevated 
sphere  of  action,  was  contented  to  remain  in  the  narrower 
limits  where  his  youthful  energies  were  first  exerted  ?  With 
the  gentleness  of  the  beloved"  disciple,  whose  lips  distilled  the 
balm  of  love,  he  led  his  flock  to  the  feet  of  the  Saviour,  breath- 
ing, in  notes  as  sweet  as  "  angels  use,"  the  promises  of  the  Gos- 
pel ;  or,  when  love  and  mercy  pleaded  in  vain,  with  the  majesty 
of  the  Apostle  of  the  Gentiles,  proclaiming  the  thunders  of  the 
violated  law  to  the  hardened  and  impenitent  sinner.  Neither 
the  burning  sun  of  summer,  nor  the  icy  blasts  of  winter,  kc~4 
him  from  the  chamber  of  the  sick,  the  bed  of  the  dying,  or 
the  dwelling  of  the  poor.  He  is  gone,  but  his  memory  is  im- 
mortal. His  image  remains  a  household  god  in  the  hearts  and 
homes  of  the  people  whom  he  loved,  embalmed  with  holier 
incense  than  ever  hallowed  the  idol  fanes  of  Greece  or  Rome. 
Peace  to  thy  ashes,  beloved  pastor,  venerated  saint — thoa 
sleepest  in  the  bosom  of  the  beautiful  valley  consecrated  as 
the  scene  of  thy  labours  and  thy  prayers.  There  the  grand 
old  elms,  that  clasp  their  hundred  arms  round  the  white  walla 
of  thy  parsonage,  as  they  rustle  in  the  breeze,  shall  whisper 
thy  name  to  children  yet  unborn ;  and  long  as  the  walls  of  the 
church,  once  thy  sanctuary,  shall  lean  on  the  blue  of  heaven, 
the  echoes  of  thy  rich  and  august  voice  will  linger  in  musio 
th<*r<8.  Yes ! — 

The  deep,  adoring  voice 

That  once  that  temple  filled, 
No  longer  breathes  rich  music  there, — 

Its  tones  in  death  are  stilled. 

But  as  the  incense  smokes, 

When  dim  the  altar's  fire, 
So  floats  the  memory  of  that  voice 

Around  the  sacred  pyre. 
46 


181  RENA;  on,  THE  SNOWBIRD. 

We  love  the  hallowed  walls 

Where  those  deep  echoes  dwell, 
And  we  love  the  noble  elms,  that  shade 

The  home  he  loved  so  well. 

A  blessing  on  it  rest — 

And  may  its  "  grand,  old"  trees, 
By  the  brightest  sunbeams  long  be  gilt, 

And  catch  the  purest  breeze. 

But,  we  will  hang  our  garland  of  love  on  the  tomb,  where 
the  willow  weeps,  and  turn  to  where  Ilena  sits,  given  up  heart 
and  soul  to  the  holy  influences  of  the  hour. 

With  all  her  wild  gayety  she  had  a  deep  feeling  of  piety, 
running  like  a  vein  of  virgin  gold  through  the  earthly  alloy 
of  her  nature.  But  hers  was  the  religion  of  love.  She  did 
not  worship  a  far-off  Deity,  dwelling  in  clouds,  and  thunder, 
and  thick  darkness.  The  kingdom  of  heaven  was  in  her  heart, 
and  there  the  God  she  adored  had  set  up  an  everlasting  throne, 
and  there  he  reigned  king  of  kings  and  lord  of  lords.  No 
unhallowed  thought  could  be  cherished  in  the  presence-cham- 
ber of  that  holy  guest;  no  evil  passion  invade  a  sovereignty 
so  glorious  and  absolute.  Far  different  were  the  emotions  of 
those  two  young  girls,  as  they  sat  side  by  side  in  the  village 
church.  Kena  gazed  on  the  heavenly  countenance  of  her 
pastor,  and  gathering  his  words  of  wisdom  and  truth,  felt  as 
if  she  were  feeding  on  angels'  food.  Stella's  eye  wandered 
over  the  congregation,  seeking  the  admiration  of  men,  forget- 
ting that  her  thoughts  were  bare  to  the  omniscient  Jehovah. 
Rena's  hands  were  clasped,  and  her  attitude  was  as  still  aa 
marble.  Stella's  fingers  played  with  her  golden  ringlets,  or 
fluttered  among  the  leaves  of  her  hymn-book;  and  if  she 
glanced  at  the  breathing  statue  at  her  side,  she  thought  Kena 
was  ridiculous  to  affect  so  much  devotion,  and  excessively  fool- 
ish to  lend  ner  her  beautiful  scarlet  mantle,  and  wear  a  dark 
and  comparatively  unbecoming  cloak  herself.  Had  she  known 


RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD.  185 

how  Rena  loved  the  hue  of  scarlet  since  Sherwood  had  sworn 
allegiance  to  it,  she  would  have  thought  her  more  foolish  still. 
But  if  Rena' s  cloak  was  not  as  becoming  as  the  scarlet  mantle 
which  she  had  so  disinterestedly  folded  around  Stella,  it  did 
not  seem  to  chill  the  ardent  welcome  which  greeted  her  from 
every  side,  when  the  services  of  the  morning  were  over.  She 
was  the  village  favourite — and  Stella's  envious  heart  sickened 
at  the  demonstrations  of  interest  and  affection  lavished  upon 
her.  Dr.  Clifford,  as  he  passed  down  the  aisle,  where  his 
loving  people  pressed  round  him,  to  catch  one  benignant  smile, 
one  kind  word,  took  both  her  hands  in  his,  calling  her  the 
lamb  of  his  flock,  the  child  of  his  prayers;  the  matrons  ca- 
ressed her  with  maternal  tenderness ;  the  young  girls  with  sis- 
terly affection ;  and  the  boys  and  young  men  crowded  round 
the  sleigh,  and  wrapped  the  buffalo  skins  round  her  feet,  with 
as  much  zeal  as  if  it  were  a  Russian  princess  enthroned  upon 
the  furs.  It  is  true  they  gazed  admiringly  at  Stella ;  but  she 
did  not  absorb  their  admiration,  she  did  not  blind,  dazzle  them, 
as  she  had  the  girlish  Henry.  They  contemplated  Rena  with 
delight ;  and  Stella  hated  her  in  proportion  as  others  seemed 
to  love  her.  She  could  not  imagine  what  charm  she  bore 
about  her.  It  could  not  be  mere  beauty,  for  was  she  not  her- 
self fairer  and  far  more  beautiful  ?  It  could  not  be  wealth 
or  rank,  for  she  was  only  a  plain  farmer's  daughter.  It  is  no 
wonder  Stella  was  puzzled  to  discover  the  amulet  she  wore 
But  she  did  wear  one,  as  we  have  before  asserted,  which,  like 
the  opal  ring  of  the  Genii,  drew  towards  her  all  within  the 
circle  of  her  influence.  The  amulet  was  love,  self-forgetting, 
self-sacrificing  love — that  love  which  has  smiles  for  the  joyous 
and  tears  for  the  sad,  and  sympathy,  tenderness,  and  kindness 
for  all  who  need  or  ask. 

About  night,  the  clouds,  which  had  worn  a  bluish  gray  tint 
during  the  day,  opened  their  bosoms  and  discharged  the  trea- 
sures of  snow  with  which  they  were  ladeu  First  it  came 


186  RENAJ   OR,   THE   SNOWBIRD. 

down  in  light  flurries,  gentle  and  soft  as  down,  melting  as  it 
fell,  then  in  gathering  flakes,  feather-like,  and  forming  into 
plumes  on  the  naked  and  icy  branches.  But  after  a  while  the 
wind  blew  in  stormy  gusts,  and  sent  it  drifting  against  the 
windows,  and  tossing  tempestuously  in  the  atmosphere.  Boys 
and  men,  too,  were  seen  scudding  along  before  the  mighty  snow- 
spirit  that  followed,  covering  them  with  a  cold,  white  mantle; 
with  the  collars  of  their  great-coats  turned  high  above  their 
ears ;  their  faces  tingling  as  if  a  razor  were  passing  over  them. 
Blessed  on  such  an  evening  is  the  genial  fireside,  and  bright 
and  happy  was  the  group  that  gathered  round  the  hearth  of 
Colonel  Fay.  Even  Kena,  who  had  been  running  out  of  doors, 
catching  the  snow  as  it  fell,  and  making  it  into  balls,  with  which 
she  threatened  to  snow-ball  Henry  and  Stella,  while  they  sat 
comfortably  by  the  fire,  even  she  was  glad  to  escape  fijom  the 
keen  edge  of  the  blast,  and  warm  her  aching  hands. 

"  I  fear  you  must  wait  till  to-morrow,  before  I  make  my 
snow  image,"  she  cried,  pressing  Henry's  soft  cheek  with  her 
icy  hand.  "  Henry,  do  you  ever  do  such  boyish  things  in 
college  ?" 

"  We  are  famous  for  snow-balling,"  he  replied ;  but  it  is 
doubtful  whether  he  himself  ever  won  any  laurels  in  the  game. 
Rena  looked  thoughtfully  and  dreamily  at  the  flashing  coals.  She 
recollected  how  she  and  Sherwood  had  toiled  together  one  win- 
ter's night  in  their  yard,  making  what  he  called  her  palace  of 
snow,  where  he  enthroned  her  as  the  Empress  of  the  Frost,  and 
phe  thought  she  would  give  all  that  royalty  ever  called  its  own,  if 
he  were  only  near,  seated  at  her  side  by  that  thanksgiving  fire. 

"  Where  are  you  going,  father  ?"  she  cried,  seeing  him  enter 
with  his  great-coat,  fur  cap,  and  woollen  gloves,  "  you  are  not 
going  out  such  a  night  as  this  ?" 

"  Why  not,  my  child  ?  I  am  well  defended,  and  have  been 
abroad  in  many  a  worse  storm  than  this." 

"  But  this  is  Thanksgiving  evening,  and  you  ought  to  stay 
at  home  with  u»  Indeed,  we  cannot  spare  you." 


REN  A;    OR,   THE   SNOWBIRD.  137 

"  No,  we  cannot,"  said  Mrs.  Fay ;  "  the  guests  we  have  in- 
vited will  not  venture  out  in  such  weather,  and  Rena,  I  know, 
will  be  discontented  if  you  are  away." 

The  Colonel  smiled  gratefully  on  his  wife  and  children,  but 
shook  his  head,  and  buttoned  up  his  coat. 

"  I  must  go  and  see  a  poor  man,  who  is  not  expected  to  live 
through  the  night.  A  little  boy  has  waded  through  the  snow 
to  bear  me  his  dying  request ;  I  would  not  refuse  it  if  the  drifts 
were  piled  mountains  high." 

"  Ah !  it  is  poor  Peter  Foote,  who  has  been  sick  so  long. 
Is  it  not  ?  He  lives  the  other  side  of  Green  toidge.  I  am 
sorry  you  have  to  pass  that  bridge,  for  since  the  ice  has  broken 
up,  such  masses  are  gathered  there,  at  the  confluence  of  the 
two  streams,  I  hear  it  is  considered  dangerous  to  ride  over  it." 

"  I  shall  walk,"  said  the  Colonel.  "  I  should  not  like  to 
expose  a  horse  to  such  a  cutting  wind.  It  is  Thanksgiving  for 
beast  as  well  as  man,  *  for  the  beast  of  the  forest  is  His,  and 
His  are  the  cattle  on  a  thousand  hills.' " 

His  eye,  lifted  for  a  moment,  acknowledged  the  Great  Sove- 
reignty of  the  universe,  then  rested  on  his  family  with  tender- 
ness and  gratitude  :  gratitude  for  their  boundless  affection. 

All  bade  him  an  affectionate  adieu,  but  Rena  followed  him 
to  the  door,  shuddering  at  the  wild  gust  that  came  rushing  in 
like  a  strong  man,  the  moment  it  was  opened.  But  he  was 
going  on  an  errand  of  mercy,  and  she  was  sure,  if  she  was  not 
looking  through  a  glass  darkly,  she  could  see  beautiful  shining 
wings  severing  the  storm  clouds,  and  shielding  his  head  from 
the  fury  of  the  blast. 

"  I  wish  I  could  go  with  you,  father,"  she  cried,  "  and  help 
you  to  comfort  the  dying  man.  Doctor  Clifford  will  be  there, 
I  know,  for  wherever  there  is  sorrow  and  death,  he  follows  to 
heal  and  sustain.  Dear  father,  pray  walk  very  carefully  over 
that  dangerous  bridge.  Step  very  lightly,  for  you  are  tall  and 
heavy,  and  may  break  through." 


188  RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD. 

The  Colonel  could  not  help  laughing  at  her  reiterated  cau- 
tions, but  he  promised  not  to  touch  the  planks  if  he  could  help  it, 
"  God  blessed  her,"  and  plunged  out  into  the  driving  storm. 
The  little  boy  who  brought  the  message  was  not  to  return,  as  he 
was  not  the  son  of  the  sick  man,  so  the  Colonel  was  entirely 
alone,  and  he  strided  along  before  the  wind,  thinking  how  much 
better  off  he  was,  thus  strong  and  powerful,  and  able  to  wrestle 
with  the  elements,  than  the  feeble,  expiring  being,  whose  couch 
he  was  about  to  visit.  It  was  rather  more  than  a  mile  to  the 
bridge,  and  it  was  not  long  before  he  heard  the  dull  murmurs 
of  the  river,  chafing  against  the  piers.  The  season,  so  far,  had 
been  unusually  cold,  and  the  river  frozen  over  earlier  than  it 
had  been,  in  the  memory  of  the  oldest  inhabitant.  This  river, 
though  not  wide,  had  a  remarkably  serpentine  course,  and  re- 
ceived in  its  meanderings  some  tributary  streams,  as  broad  and 
voluminous  as  itself.  Several  bridges  spanned  it,  as  it  wound 
its  silver  coils  through  green  meadows  and  sunny  plains.  In 
summer  this  beautiful,  blue,  pellucid  stream,  so  sportive  and 
capricious  in  its  ways,  now  laughing  in  sunshine,  now  mur- 
muring in  shade,  then  gliding  placidly,  silently  along,  mar- 
gined by  "  bonny  spreading  bushes"  betraying  its  presence 
only  by  a  richer,  deeper,  more  luxuriant  herbage  ;  this  sweet, 
joyous,  shining  river,  gave  inexpressible  life  and  beauty  to  the 
landscape.  And  even  in  winter,  when,  bound  in  fetters  of  ice, 
it  glassed  the  moonbeams  on  its  bosom,  it  was  still  beautiful, 
and  when  those  fetters  were  suddenly  broken  by  the  thaw-spirit, 
and  the  waters  tossed  about  the  glittering  ice  chains  and  rev- 
elled madly  in  their  recovered  freedom,  beauty  and  sublimity 
mingled  in  the  scene. 

The  bridge  was  called  Green  bridge,  because  a  man  of  that 
name  lived  just  above  it.  It  was  far  from  new,  and  had  been 
repaired  several  times,  for  the  pressure  of  the  breaking  ice  in 
winter  was  of  an  immense  weight.  The  Colonel,  when  he  first 
placed  his  foot  on  the  planks,  thought  of  Ilena'a  parting 


RENA;  OB,  THE  SNOWBIRD.  189 

injunction,  and  he  did  step  rather  lighter  than  usual.  He 
saw  a  very  heavily  loaded  wood  sledge  right  before  him. 
and  he  was  sure  that  if  he  was  heavy,  he  was  not  as  much 
so  as  the  burden  that  preceded  him.  He  passed  along  over 
the  central  arch,  the  sledge  touched  the  opposite  bank,  and 
he  stepped  with  a  firmer,  more  assured  tread,  when,  instanta- 
neous as  the'  lightning's  flash,  the  plank  gave  way  beneath 
his  feet,  there  was  a  terrible  crash  of  falling  timbers,  of 
shivering  ice,  and  he  was  hurled  down  with  the  ruins,  and 
dashed  into  the  water,  among  fragments  of  ice,  with  a  force 
that  stunned  and  produced  a  transient  suspension  of  all  his 
faculties.  He  soon,  however,  revived  to  a  full  sense  of  th<» 
horrors  of  his  situation.  He  was  a  good  swimmer,  but  tht 
current  was  so  strong,  dashing  through  large,  jagged  cakes  of 
ioe,  that,  impeding  its  course,  only  lashed  it  into  wilder  foam, 
and  his  heavy  outside  garment  added  such  weight  to  his 
limbs,  benumbed  and  chilled  as  they  were,  he  was  scarcely 
capable  of  any  muscular. exertion.  Still  he  struggled,  like  a 
strong  man  with  his  fate,  the  great  law  of  self-preservation 
urging  him  on,  even  when  failing  nature  was  ready  to  yield. 
If  he  could  reach  the  bank  where  the  slender  willows  bent 
over  the  stream,  and  grasp  one  of  the  branches,  he  could  swing 
himself  to  the  shore ;  but  for  this,  he  had  to  breast  the  current, 
rushing  against  him,  full  of  sharp,  cold,  icy  fragments,  as  well 
as  large  blocks,  whirling  and  plunging  about  and  wrestling 
with  each  other,  yet  all  combining  their  forces  against  him. 
Though  unseen,  the  moon  was  rolling  cold  and  dull  behind  the 
snow-clouds,  blunting  the  edge  of  darkness,  and  revealing  the 
perils  to  which  he  was  exposed.  He  called  for  help,  till  his 
hoarse  voice  could  utter  no  sound,  but  the  only  answer  he 
heard  was  a  mocking  echo  from  the  opposite  bank.  While 
forcing  his  way  desperately,  almost  despairingly,  towards  the 
bending  willows,  his  mind,  with  supernatural  clearness  and 
power,  gathered  into  that  one  drop  of  time  all  the  thoughts, 


190  RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD. 

feelings,  and  events  of  his  whole  life.  Incidents  and  emotious 
over  which  the  waves  of  oblivion  had  rolled  and  apparently 
washed  out  every  trace,  came  up  in  as  strong  relief  as  the 
ruined  bridge  against  the  stormy  sky.  The  past  was  like  a 
scroll,  written  in  invisible  ink,  dim  and  colourless,  but  which 
he  now  read  by  the  strong  blaze  of  an  enkindled  conscience, 
and  every  letter  and  line  emerged  in  characters  of  fire.  Real- 
izing awfully,  grandly  the  eternity  of  his  being,  and  the  might 
and  glory  of  Him  who  gave  it,  he  felt  willing  to  die,  trusting 
in  that  divine  love,  which  is  stronger  than  death  and  deeper 
than  the  grave.  He  remembered  the  dying  man,  to  whose 
bed-side  he  was  hastening,  and  whom  he  was  about  to  precede 
to  the  dark  confines  of  an  unknown  world.  He  thought  of 
the  loving  family,  from  which  he  had  just  parted,  and  which 
he  might  never  again  behold  on  earth,  and  a  paroxysm  of 
agony  shook  his  frame. 

"Oh,  thou  great  and  glorious  God,"  he  cried,  out  of  the 
depths  of  his  spirit,  in  the  midst  of  the  whirling  waters. 
"  Oh  !  thou  Father  of  Mercies — thou  Giver  and  Guardian  of 
iife — spare  me  a  little  longer,  for  their  sakes — not  mine !  My 
wife — my  son — my  darling,  darling  Rena !" 

Hark !  to  the  sound  of  fast-coming  bells  !  Faintly  they 
tinkled  through  the  whirling  drifts,  but  still  they  came  nearer 
and  nearer.  Suddenly  the  sound  ceased.  It  was  probably 
gome  traveller,  who  had  reached  the  verge  of  the  chasm  made 
by  the  fallen  timbers,  and  was  arrested  timely  on  the  brink. 

"  Help,  help  !"  he  cried,  collecting  all  the  remaining  ener- 
gies of  life,  in  that  one  last  appeal — "  help,  in  the  name  of 
God,  for  a  drowning  man  !" 

At  this  moment,  a  gigantic  block  of  ice,  driven  along,  made 
Buch  an  eddy  in  the  water  that  he  was  whirled  near  the  spot 
to  which  his  straining  eyes  had  been  turned.  He  clutched  at 
one  of  the  willow  boughs,  but  icy,  slippery,  and  slender,  it 
eluded  hia  stiffening  fingers,  and  sinking  back  with  a  deeper 
plunge,  light,  motion,  and  consciousness  forsook  him. 


RENAj   OR,   THE   SNOWBIRD.  191 

In  the  mean  time,  the  family  circle  surrounded  the  merry 
blaze,  unconscious  of  the  danger  of  him  they  loved  so  well. 
It  is  true  when  the  blast  came  rushing  and  howling  against 
the  window,  shaking  the  glass  as  if  it  would  shiver  it  into 
atoms,  and  they  saw  the  snow-wreaths  hang  thicker  and  thick- 
er on  the  sashes,  till  they  formed  an  impenetrable  curtain 
without,  they  would  wish  he  was  at  home,  and  pile  on  the 
wood,  as  if  he  could  be  sensible  of  its  warmth.  Aunt  Debby 
exerted  herself  for  the  entertainment  of  all,  and  opening  the 
store-house  of  her  memory,  she  told  many  a  wondrous  tale  of 
persons  frozen  in  snow-drifts,  wedged  in  ice-bergs,  or  drowned 
in  the  dark  river.  From  these,  by  a  natural  association  of 
ideas,  she  proceeded  to  ghost-stories,  and  related  one  after 
another,  till  one  could  fancy  they  saw  one  of  these  dwellers 
of  the  "  pale  realms  of  shade,"  rising  from  their  dim  abodes, 
to  wander  about  at  the  midnight  hour  and  point  the  spectral 
finger  at  the  undetected  murderer.  At  last  lien  a  covered  her 
ears  with  her  hands  and  declared  she  would  not  listen  any 
longer,  for  it  filled  her  with  direful  apprehensions  about  her 
father,  for  there  was  something  so  solemn  in  his  being  called 
out  on  such  a  night  to  visit  a  dying  man. 

"  Pray,  don't  infect  me  with  your  fears,  Rena  I"  cried  Mrs. 
Fay,  in  an  anxious  voice.  "  Your  father  knows  how  to  take 
care  of  himself." 

Rena  started  up.  She  was  sure  she  heard  the  gate  open — 
she  was  sure  she  heard  her  father's  step.  Without  stop- 
ping for  a  candle,  which  the  wind  would  have  extinguished, 
she  ran  through  the  passage,  into  which  the  snow  had  drifted 
in  fantastic  heaps,  and  unclosed  the  door,  though  the  frosty 
latch  seemed  glued  to  her  fingers. 

"  Father  I"  she  exclaimed. 

"  Rena  1"  It  was  not  the  voice  of  her  father,  but  she  knew 
it  well,  and  lightning  flashes  of  electric  joy  illumined  her 
inmost  being.  A  pair  of  arms,  dripping  and  cold,  clasped  her 
to  a  bosom  of  ice. 


192  RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD. 

"  I  come  like  a  river-god  to  my  beloved  Undine  I"  he 
cried ;  "  but  forgive  me — I  chill  you,  I  congeal  you  I" 

"  I  thought  it  was  my  father,"  said  she,  as  she  had  done 
four  years  before,  when  clasped  in  his  victorious  arms.  "  Bui 
where  have  you  been — for  it  is  water,  not  snow,  that  is  turn- 
ing to  ice  on  your  garments?  Come,  where  the  fire  is 
blazing.  Come — you  will  perish  here !" 

"  Your  father  is  near,  llena.  Be  not  alarmed — he  is  safe 
now/' 

"  Now !  good  Heavens !  what  has  happened  ?" 

"Now!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Fay,  who  supposing  that  it  was 
her  kusband  who  entered,  had  followed  Rena  into  the  passage, 
and  listened  with  astonishment  to  the  stranger's  voice.  "  Tell 
me,  I  beseech  you,  what  evil  has  befallen  my  husband  ?" 

"  Be  not  alarmed,  madam.  He  was  in  danger  of  drowning, 
but  is  now  safe.  A  friend  is  accompanying  him  home.  I 
hastened  forward  to  prepare  you  for  the  accident,  and  allay 
your  fears.  The  sleigh  is  already  at  the  gate — I  will  go  and 
assist  him." 

Rena  sprang  over  the  threshhold  into  a  drift  almost  as  high 
as  her  head,  but  the  snow  blew  fiercely  in  her  face,  blinding 
her  eyes,  and  she  would  have  fallen  before  the  resisting  wind 
had  not  Sherwood  again  caught  her  in  his  freezing  arms  and 
borne  her  into  the  house. 

"  This  is  madness,  Rena !  You  can  do  no  good,  and  again 
I  repeat,  your  father  is  safe." 

Yes !  he  was  safe  from  a  drowning  death — but  no  words 
can  describe  the  consternation  and  dismay  of  his  family  when 
they  saw  him  brought  in,  supported  by  Sherwood  and  another 
gentleman,  his  face  pale  as  a  corpse,  save  where  it  was  dis- 
coloured with  purple,  and  his  powerful  and  energetia  frame 
drooping  and  collapsed. 

"  I  live  1"  said  he,  faintly,  taking  in  with  a  dim  glance  the 
pale  and  agitated  group  around  him ;  "  and  this  is  my  pro- 


RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD.  193 

server!" — pressing  the  hand  of  Sherwood — "take  care  of 
him  I" 

Mrs.  Fay  was  a  woman  of  great  feeling  and  remarkable 
presence  of  mind,  and,  assisted  by  Aunt  Debby,  who,  in 
alarm  for  her  brother,  forgot  all  selfish  emotions,  they  soon 
had  hot  blankets  and  warm  draughts,  which  restored  life  and 
warmth  and  action  to  the  chilled  limbs  and  almost  frozen 
blood.  It  was  not  long  before  his  pale,  discoloured  face 
assumed  a  more  natural  hue ;  and  feeling  a  grateful  contrast 
in  the  downy  bed  that  pressed  softly  round  his  bruised  and 
aching  frame  to  the  icy  couch  in  which  he  had  been  laid,  he 
sank  into  a  deep  and  soothing  sleep. 

Meanwhile  Henry,  with  unwonted  animation,  had  attended 
to  Sherwood's  freezing  condition,  for  he  was  literally  covered 
with  a  coat  of  ice,  and  icicles  glittered  in  his  hair.  He  brought 
in  his  valise,  took  him  to  his  own  room,  assisted  him  to  exchange 
his  saturated  garments,  and  dry  the  melting  sleet  from  his 
dankened  locks.  The  transition  was  very  grateful,  but  a  still 
more  grateful  one  awaited  him  in  the  family  sitting-room. 
As  he  entered  at  one  door,  Aunt  Debby  was  coming  in  at 
another,  and  she  met  the  young  man  face  to  face.  But  the 
lightnings  were  quenched  in  her  coal  black  eyes — they  looked 
as  if  they  had  been  moistened  by  tears ! 

"  Young  man/'  said  she,  holding  out  her  hand,  "  you  have 
saved  my  brother's  life,  and  I  thank  you.  I  am  not  a  woman 
to  waste  words ;  but  you  will  find  my  remembrance  of  bene- 
fits, is  deep  and  strong  as  that  of  injuries.  Here,  take  the 
colonel's  seat,  next  the  fire,  and  drink  a  glass  of  this  hot, 
mulled  wine;  I  am  sure  you  need  it.  Rena,  give  him  a 
bumper." 

Sherwood  took  the  brimming  glass  from  Rena's  trembling 
hand,  and  pledging  everlasting  respect  to  Aunt  Debby  in 
words,  and  everlasting  love  to  Rena  in  looks,  drained  the 
spicy  and  spirit-warming  beverage.  The  beautiful  Stella  be- 


194  EENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD. 

held  the  interchange  of  glances,  where  soul  flashed  to  soul ; 
and  the  evil  demon  of  her  nature,  like  a  serpent  roused 
from  its  torpor,  began  to  sting  and  coil.  She  tried  to  think 
it  was  Henry  who  had  induced  him  to  come — that  it  was  a 
mere  desire  for  a  Thanksgiving  frolic ;  even  the  wild  hope 
that  she  herself  was  the  magnet,  had  elated  her  with  mo- 
mentary triumph.  As  she  looked  on  Rena's  face,  now  literally 
resplendent  with  the  light  and  glow  of  the  heart,  she  did  not 
know  that  baleful  passions  were  darkening  her  own.  Astro- 
logy speaks  of  malignant  stars ;  if  there  ever  were  such,  they 
were  shining  now  coldly,  wickedly,  under  Stella's  pencilled 
brows.  If  she  could  devise  any  means  of  depriving  Rena  of 
the  loadstone  she  seemed  to  possess! — but  deep  was  the 
casket  that  contained  it,  and  it  could  only  be  reached  through 
the  blood  of  her  heart.  Ah!  if  the  thoughts  that  glance 
into  the  minds  of  the  envious  and  jealous  were  daguerreotyped 
on  the  walls  that  enclose  them,  how  startling  and  awful  would 
be  the  revelation !  How  black  would  be  the  shades,  how 
deep  the  lines,  how  appalling  the  combinations !  But  there 
is  a  tablet,  unseen  by  mortal  vision,  where  these  thoughts  are 
delineated,  not  by  the  sunbeams  of  heaven,  but  the  blazing 
eye  of  Omnipotence ;  and  no  chemic  art  can  ever  obliterate 
the  burning  lines.  But  one  stream  has  power  to  efface  them ; 
and  wo  be  to  thee,  fair  and  beautiful  Stella,  if  it  flows  not 
over  thy  polluted  heart ! 

"  And  now,"  said  Aunt  Debby,  drawing  her  chair  next  to 
Sherwood,  while  Rena  sat  on  a  low  stool  leaning  on  her  lap — 
a  habit  which  she  had  acquired  at  Sunny  Dell — "  will  you  tell 
us  the  history  of  my  brother's  danger  and  deliverance  ?  If 
your  tongue  is  not  yet  thawed,  another  glass  of  mulled  wine 
will  do  it." 

"  I  fear  my  head  would  not  bear  another,"  replied  Sher- 
wood ;  "  that  or  some  other  influences  have  made  it  feel  won- 
drous light." 


RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD.  195 

"  Nonsense !"  said  Aunt  Debby ;  "  who  ever  heard  of  one's 
being  touched  in  the  brain,  Thanksgiving  eve?  God  be 
praised !"  added  she,  with  gravity,  "  we  may  now  truly  call 
it  Thanksgiving  eve." 

"  And  next  to  God,  him,"  said  Rena,  in  a  low  voice.  But 
low  as  it  was,  Sherwood  heard  her,  and  would  again  Have  buf- 
fetei  the  cold  waters  for  such  a  reward. 

"  The  history  of  his  deliverance  is  short/'  said  Sherwood ; 
"of  his  danger,  I  know  not  how  long.  I  was  urging  my 
weary  horse  through  the  snow-blast  that  blinded  us  both, 
when  he  suddenly  stopped  on  the  confines  of  the  bridge. 
Without  looking  to  see  the  cause,  and  attributing  it  to  weari- 
ness, I  was  base  enough  to  whip  him,  so  impatient  was  I  to 
reach  the  haven  to  which  I  was  bound.  The  resisting  animal 
would  not  move,  and,  clearing  away  the  snow-flakes  from  my 
vision,  I  rose  and  looked  forward.  A  black  and  yawning 
chasm  opened  right  before  the  horse's  head ;  the  bridge  had 
fallen,  and  its  ruins  mingled  with  the  dashing  waters.  Ap- 
palled at  the  danger  I  had  escaped,  I  felt  as  if  I  ought  to 
have  got  down  on  my  knees  to  my  horse  and  asked  his  pardon 
for  the  lash  I  had  given  him — when  a  cry  such  as  only  man 
can  utter  in  the  extremity  of  mortal  agony,  came  up  from  the 
depth  of  the  river,  and  pierced  my  ears  like  sharp  steel. 
t  Help !'  cried  the  voice — '  help,  in  the  name  of  God !  for  a 
drowning  man !' " 

"  Oh,  my  father  I"  exclaimed  Rena,  bursting  into  tears. 

"  It  was  indeed  an  awful  moment,"  added  Sherwood,  in  a 
eoftened  voice ;  "  but  had  I  known  it  was  your  father,  Rena, 
I  could  not  have  winged  my  way  with  more  rapidity  to  the 
spot  whence  the  sound  proceeded.  It  was  the  cry  of  human 
misery,  and  it  was  enough.  Before  I  arrived,  no  noise  was 
beard  but  the  roaring  of  the  river  mingling  with  the  howling 
of  the  storm.  I  perceived  a  quick,  strong  vibration  in  one  of 
*he  \villows.  that  did  not  seem  to  be  caused  by  the  wind 


196  EENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD. 

which  only  swayed  its  branches  aside,  and  I  thought  the  drown- 
ing person  must  have  caught  hold  of  it  in  vain.  Rena,  how 
pale  you  look ;  I  dare  not  go  on  !" 

"  Oh  yes,  tell  how  you  saved  him  ! — for  you  did  save  him; 
oh,  he  is  safe  now  !" 

"  That  I  find  it  difficult  to  relate.  I  remember  seeing  a 
dark  object  rising  above  the  water,  then  sinking,  and  rising 
again ;  and  my  plunging  in  and  grappling  with  the  ice  that 
rushed  between  it  and  me,  and  hurling  it  from  me  with  a 
strength  I  had  never  had  before.  I  remember  grasping  the 
body  at  last  and  bearing  it  towards  the  shore,  how,  I  know 
not.  TVL  <m  we  reached  the  bank  I  was  nearly  as  lifeless  as 
himself;  but  I  soon  recovered,  and  taking  my  cloak,  which  I 
had  thrown  from  me  ere  I  plunged,  wrapped  it  round  his  body. 
I  recognised  him,  for  the  moon's  light  was  strong  through  the 
clouds  ;  and  I  felt  as  if  I  would  willingly  sacrifice  my  life  for 
his.  I  tried  to  drag  him  to  my  sleigh,  which  I  had  left  by 
the  bridge,  but  the  exhaustion  following  unnatural  effort, 
made  it  an  unavailing  attempt.  I  chafed  his  benumbed  hands, 
and  laying  my  face  to  his,  breathed  my  vitality  through  hia 
pallid  lips.  He  lived,  he  moved — "  Here  Sherwood's  voice 
choked,  and  he  looked  down  to  hide  his  glistening  eyes. 
Oh  !  how  Rena  loved  him  at  that  moment !  how  she  longed 
to  take  that  hand,  that  heroic  hand,  which  had  saved  her 
father's  life,  and  cover  it  with  her  pure  and  grateful  kisses ! 
But  Aunt  Debby  did  what  she  dared  not — she  took  his  hand 
and  pressed  it  in  silence,  for  she  could  not  speak.  Tears  stole 
down  the  cheeks  of  the  gentle  Henry ;  no  eye  was  dry  but 
Stella's..  The  dew  that  moistens  the  tender  herbage  and  the 
flower  leaves  the  rock  and  sand  arid  as  before. 

"  And  this  is  all,"  said  Sherwood,  with  reviving  anima- 
tion. "  The  gentleman  who  accompanied  me  here,  most 
opportunely  rode  up  at  this  moment,  and  adding  his  cloak  to 
mine,  which  already  covered  him,  and  his  strength  to  mine, 


RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD.  197 

assisted  me  in  placing  him  in  my  sleigh,  and  directed  me  to 
another  road,  which  we  could  travel  in  security.  I  ought  to 
rejoice  in  this  occurrence,  if  Colonel  Fay  is  not  too  great  a 
sufferer,  since  I  have  won  a  welcome  of  which  I  was  a  little 
doubtful — an  uninvited  guest  on  Thanksgiving  eve  shonld 
bring  powerful  credentials  with  him." 

"But  how  did  you  know  we  were  here?"  suddenly  asked 
Aunt  Debby. 

Kena  blushed  as  if  she  knew  more  than  she  was  willing  to 
tell ;  but  Sherwood  answered. 

"  I  knew  that  Henry  was  here — and  it  was  natural  for  me 
to  think  that  you  would  all  follow  the  time-honoured  custom 
of  meeting  around  the  Thanksgiving  board." 

A  sumptuous  board  was  spread  for  Sherwood,  and  as  tin 
Colonel  still  slept  calmly  and  soundly  as  an  infant,  Mrs.  Fay 
came  forth  to  do  the  honours  of  hospitality  in  compliment  and 
gratitude  to  the  preserver  of  her  husband. 

The  evening  closed  with  hilarity.  Henry,  like  another 
Cymon,  warmed  into  life  by  the  magic  of  beauty,  was  even 
gay,  but  Rena,  in  the  midst  of  her  own  happiness,  felt  a  pain- 
ful misgiving  for  his  future  peace,  when  she  witnessed  the 
fascinating  influence  Stella  exercised  over  him.  She  did  not 
want  him  to  love  Stella.  But  what  could  she  do  to  prevent 
it  ?  She  was  sorry  she  had  asked  her  to  come  home  with  her ; 
but  then  it  would  have  been  selfish  and  unkind  to  have  left 
her  behind,  and  her  father  had  told  her  it  was  perfectly  right. 
She  tried  to  banish  these  unpleasant  feelings,  but  still,  when- 
ever she  saw  Henry's  large,  soft,  innocent  black  eyes  follow- 
ing her  every  movement,  she  could  not  help  thinking  of  the 
moth  fluttering  round  the  flame  that  is  to  consume  it ;  the 
bird  charmed  by  the  glittering  serpent,  attracting  but  tc 
destroy. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

•Endearing !  endearing ! 

Why  so  endearing 
Are  those  dark  lustrous  eyes 

Through  their  silk  lashes  peering  T 
They  love  me — they  love  me — 

Deeply — sincerely — 
And  more  than  aught  else  on  earth 

I  love  them  dearly."  MOTHERWELI. 

"I  cannot  bear  that  cold,  cold  look, 

That  chilling  glance  to  me  ; 
Contempt  I  may  from  others  brook, 
But  never  scorn  from  thee !"  *  *  *  * 

IT  Wi  »  several  days  before  Colonel  Fay  recovered  from  the 
effects  of  his  terrible  bath.  When  he  again  took  his  seat  in 
the  family  circle,  it  was  affecting  to  see  the  looks  of  anxious 
love  bent  on  his  pale  but  smiling  countenance.  Never  before 
had  his  strong  form  been  bowed  by  weakness,  and  though  it 
was  caused  by  an  accident  which  human  foresight  might  have 
prevented,  instead  of  one  of  those  direct  visitations  of  the 
Almighty  in  which  no  immediate  agency  is  visible,  still  his 
hold  on  life  had  been  loosened,  and  they  felt  its  insecurity. 
The  lofty  pillar  had  leaned  from  its  base — it  might  fall,  and 
the  happiness  of  the  household  be  crushed  by  the  ruin.  Kena 
hovered  round  him,  like  the  Snowbird,  whose  name  she  bore. 
She  had  always  adored  her  father,  and  now  the  life  that  Sher- 
wood had  preserved  seemed  doubly  dear.  Then  to  see  him 
and  Aunt  Debby  such  cordial  friends,  after  such  bitter  enmity 
on  her  part,  seemed  more  like  a  dream  than  a  reality.  She 

(198) 


RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD.  *99 

never  called  him  by  the  name  of  Lindsey,  and  the  family  also 
avoided  a  sound  which  awakened  such  wounding  associations. 
It  was  nothing  but  Sherwood,  and  he  would  not  have  exchanged 
this  cordial,  endearing  familiarity  for  all  the  cold  Mr.  Lindseys 
in  the  world.  He  felt  upon  the  same  footing  with  Henry, 
and  the  freedom  of  the  house  was  his.  When  a  young  man 
who  visits  a  northern  farmer  can  enter  the  kitchen  with 
impunity,  he  may  esteem  himself  a  privileged  guest.  The 
kitchens  of  New  England  are  palaces  to  what  they  are  in 
Southern  regions,  where  the  sable  race  alone  preside.  It  is 
no  unfrequent  thing  to  see  them  handsomely  carpeted  and 
curtained,  and  the  mantel-piece  tastefully  adorned.  There  is 
always  a  back  kitchen,  and  a  multiplicity  of  closets,  where 
the  macninery  of  washing  and  cooking  is  kept ;  so  that  nothing 
that  looks  like  drudgery  defaces  the  room,  which  is  often  ad- 
joining the  parlour  or  family  sitting-room.  Mrs.  Fay's  kitchen 
was  a  proverb  for  neatness,  and  there  Rachel  presided,  an  hon- 
oured and  beloved  member  of  the  family.  Faithful  as  the  sun, 
industrious  as  the  bee,  and  cheerful  and  tireless  as  the  lark, 
she  accomplished  more  work  with  her  single  arm  than  half  a 
dozen  common  servants.  Her  brasses  shone  like  burnished 
gold.  Right  in  the  centre  of  the  mantel-piece  was  an  immense 
brass  platter,  an  heir-loom  of  the  family,  resembling  one  of 
the  ancient  ancilla,  which,  though  never  used,  Rachel  scoured 
regularly  every  Saturday  morning  with  enthusiastic  industry. 
Rena  was  very  fond  of  the  poetry  of  the  kitchen,  such  as  beat- 
ing the  whites  of  eggs,  till  they  foamed  like  the  cascade  at 
Sunny  Dell, — seasoning  puddings  and  pies  and  cutting  pastry 
in  various  original  forms.  There  was  a  nice  domestic  carpet 
in  front  of  the  fire,  a  black  varnished  settee  by  the  side  of  the 
chimney,  which  answered  the  double  purpose  of  a  seat  and  a 
shelter  from  the  blast  made  by  the  opening  door.  Sherwood 
had  a  wonderful  fancy  for  this  settee,  whenever  Rena  was 
engaged  in  her  poetry,  though  the  print  of  a  little  pair  of  mis- 
47 


200  RENA;   OR,   THE   SNOWBIRD. 

chievous  hands  were  often  left  in  white  flour  on  his  dark, 
broadcloth  coat.  Rena  never  looked  more  charming  than 
when  flitting  about  the  kitchen,  in  her  crimson  merino  frock 
and  white  apron,  her  sleeves  pushed  up  to  the  elbows,  with 
smiles  coming  and  going  on  her  sweet  lips  and  dimpled  cheeks. 

Stella  thought  it  very  strange,  that  the  son  of  the  Hon. 
Mr.  Lindsey  should  condescend  to  sit  in  a  farmer's  kitchen, 
— a  place  she  avoided  herself,  as  uncongenial,  and  rather  vul- 
gar. She  was  maturing  a  great  plan  in  her  head,  which  cir- 
cumstances seemed  to  favour,  and  which,  if  successful,  would 
have  the  twofold  advantage  of  planting  distrust  and  unhappi- 
ness  in  the  bosom  of  Rena,  and  fill  with  wrath  the  proud 
Senator.  Stella  was  skilled  in  all  the  mysteries  of  needle- 
work, for  she  had  served  a  long  apprenticeship  at  this  art. 
In  all  her  homes  she  was  employed  in  this  manner,  and  her 
hands  were  unsoiled  by  any  household  drudgery.  She  had 
heard  of  beautiful  milliners  in  the  city,  who  had  become  great 
ladies,  and  married  into  aristocratic  families.  If  she  could 
once  get  there,  and  enter  an  establishment  of  this  kind,  she 
was  sure  her  fortune  would  be  made.  The  sudden  and  blind- 
ing admiration  of  Henry  was  a  proof  of  the  influence  she  could 
exert.  She  intended  to  seek  an  interview  with  Sherwood,  just 
before  he  started,  and,  throwing  herself  on  his  protection, 
entreat  him  to  carry  her  to  the  metropolis,  whither  he  was 
himself  bound.  He  could  not  refuse  this.  Rena  would  doubt 
the  faith  of  her  lover — Mr.  Lindsey  the  integrity  of  his  son. 
What  a  glorious  scheme  ! 

The  evening  before  Sherwood's  departure,  he  found  himself 
alone  with  Colonel  Fay.  He  felt  that  it  was  due  to  the  latter, 
to  speak  to  him  openly  of  his  attachment  to  his  daughter,  but 
a  strange  embarrassment  impeded  his  usually  fluent  tongue. 
Colonel  Fay  unconsciously  removed  it  by  saying,  "  I  know  not 
how  I  can  ever  recompense  you  for  my  prolonged  life.  As  sure 
as  I  feel  the  beating  of  my  heart  now,  it  would  have  been  lying 


RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD.  201 

cold  beneath  the  clods  of  the  valley,  had  you  not  found  me 
under  the  deep  water." 

"  I  ask  no  recompense  for  a  mere  impulse  of  humanity,  sir ; 
I  am  a  thousand  times  repaid  already.  But  I  would  ask  of 
you  what  would  bind  me  to  you  by  obligations  which  I  can 
ne/er  cancel.  Colonel  Fay,"  he  added,  impetuously,  "you 
mast  have  seen  that  I  love  Rcna ;  you  must  know  it.  May 
I  consider  the  warm  and  cordial  welcome  I  have  received,  as  a 
sanction  to  my  love  ?" 

"  I  have  seen  it,"  replied  the  Colonel,  frankly ;  "  and  if  I 
thought  your  father  would  offer  no  more  impediments  than 
hers,  the  path  before  you  would  be  smooth." 

"  My  father" — said  Sherwood,  with  hesitation — 

"  Is  a  proud  and  haughty  man,"  resumed  the  Colonel ;  "  he 
will  probably  look  down  with  scorn  upon  an  alliance  with  a 
farmer's  daughter.  You  remember,  when  several  years  ago, 
my  wild  skating  girl  introduced  you,  I  gave  you  but  a  frozen 
greeting.  You  told  me  that  I  did  not  like  your  father,  and  I 
did  not ;  I  never  can  like  him,  never  wish  to  have  any  com- 
munion with  him." 

Sherwood's  brow  darkened,  and  it  gave  him  a  wonderful 
resemblance  to  his  father.  It  was  well  that  Aunt  Debby  was 
not  present. 

"  I  do  not  wish  to  wound  your  feelings,"  continued  Colonel 
Fay,  "  for  there  is  not  a  young  man  in  the  world  whom  I  es- 
teem more  highly — esteem  is  a  cold  word — whom  I  love  more 
cordially  than  you,  Sherwood,  and  whom  I  would  rejoice  more 
to  call  my  son." 

Sherwood  grasped  his  hand  fervently 

"But"— 

"But" — repeated  Sherwood,  impatiently — 

"  But,"  said  the  Colonel,  "  if  your  father  makes  the  least 
opposition,  I  never  can  allow  my  daughter  to  steal  into  the 
family  of  the  man  who  inflicted  such  a  doadly  injury  on  mine. 


202  RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD. 

To  vindicate  this  resolution,  I  ought  to  tell  you  what  that  in- 
jury was.  If  you  love  my  daughter,  as  I  believe  you  do,  you 
can  understand  the  length  and  the  breadth  thereof.  When  my 
Bister,  whom  you  call  Aunt  Debby,  was  of  the  age  of  Rena, 
she  was  a  gay,  beautiful,  and  attractive  girl,  living  in  rural 
retirement,  perfectly  ignorant  of  the  world,  with  a  heart  as 
warm  and  trusting  as  Rena's,  as  open  to  the  influence  of  love. 
Your  father  won  that  heart  with  art  and  guile — I  may  be  mis- 
taken there,  perhaps  it  was  an  easy  conquest,  for  he  was  pos- 
sessed of  wondrous  fascination — pledged  her  his  faith,  and 
received  hers  in  undoubting  confidence.  I  am  really  sorry, 
grieved  to  be  obliged  to  reveal  to  you  a  story  of  treachery  so 
black  and  unprecedented.  He  allowed  the  marriage  prepara- 
tions to  go  on,  the  bride  to  adorn  herself  for  the  nuptials,  which 
he  never  intended  to  celebrate.  Even  then  he  was  wedded  to 
another.  My  sister  had  a  proud,  independent  spirit.  She 
scorned  the  idea  of  her  family's  avenging  the  insult,  but  she 
felt  it  to  her  heart's  core.  Yes,  her  heart  became  indurated 
seared  as  with  a  red-hot  iron — her  feelings  turned  to  gall — 
her  life  mantle  a  barren  waste.  Can  you  wonder  now,  that  she 
abhors  the  name  you  bear  ?  Can  you  wonder  that  she  has 
sought  to  shield  her  niece  from  an  influence,  which  proved  so 
fatal  to  herself?  Can  you  wonder  that  I,  her  brother,  should 
have  at  first  looked  coldly  on  the  son  of  him  who  had  mur- 
dered, yes,  murdered,  coldly,  and  deliberately,  the  life  of  a 
sister's  heart  I" 

Sherwood  had  never  seen  the  Colonel  so  greatly  excited. 
His  blue  eye  sparkled  like  steel  clashing  against  steel.  He, 
himself,  listened  with  burning  veins  to  the  history  of  his 
father's  dishonour.  He  felt  it  reflected  on  him ;  and  his  love, 
the  love  of  the  proud  Senator's  son  for  the  farmer's  daughter, 
seemed  arrogance  and  presumption. 

"  No,  I  cannot  wonder,"  said  he,  in  a  voice  husky  with 
suppressed  emotion ;  "  I  only  wonder.you  did  uot  shoot  me  at 


RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD.  203 

once.  I  wonder  Aunt  Debby  did  not  annihilate,  as  well  as 
scorch  me,  with  her  lightnings.  But  is  it  possible  that  iny 
father  has  done  this  ?  There  must  be  some  extenuating  cir- 
cumstances. I  know  him  proud,  ambitious  as  an  archangel, 
but  I  never  knew  him  guilty  of  meanness.  All  his  faults 
seemed  lofty.  Colonel  Fay,  I  would  put  my  right  hand  in 
this  blaze  and  consume  it,  if  I  could  disbelieve  this  tale." 

"  I  have  nothing  extenuated,  nor  set  down  aught  in  malice," 
said  the  Colonel,  in  a  calm  tone.  "  Nothing  but  a  sense  of 
duty  caused  me  to  inflict  on  you  so  much  pain.  Had  I  not 
feared  my  God  more  than  man,  his  blood  or  mine  would,  long 
ago,  have  reddened  the  ground.  I  have  no  doubt  your  father 
thinks  me  a  coward  because  I  never  challenged  him ;  but  I 
would  as  soon  have  sought  him  in  his  chamber,  and 
plunged  a  dagger  in  his  breast,  for  duelling  is  nothing  but 
cold-blooded  murder.  Tell  me  now,  if  you  think  your  father 
will  approve  your  choice  ?" 

"  He  will  not  approve,  but  he  may,  in  time,  be  brought  to 
consent"  replied  Sherwood ;  " but  surely,  Colonel  Fay,  you 
will  not  sacrifice  your  daughter's  happiness,  I  will  not  speak 
of  my  own,  to  a  parent's  pride  or  your  own  just  resent- 
ment?" 

"  Are  you  sure  that  her  happiness  is  involved  ?  has  she  told 
you  as  much  ?" 

"  I  know  that  she  loves  me,  and  I  judge  of  her  heart  by  my 
own.  I  have  no  thought  of  happiness,  independent  of  her 
participation  ;  no  dream  of  ambition  that  she  has  not  inspired. 
I  loved  her  when  she  was  a  child  of  six  years  old.  Even  then 
she  entwined  herself  with  the  chords  of  my  heart.  Time  has 
only  tightened  and  strengthened  the  fold.  It  will  never 
loosen  till  the  life  ^strings  air,  ,-ut." 

"  My  poor  little  Snowbird  !"  said  the  father,  tenderly  and 
sadly ;  "  I  wish  she  had  folded  her  wings  a  little  closer  over 
her  heart  j  I  cannot  bear  to  think  of  her  drooping  and  joy- 
less. She  is  so  young,  so  loving." 


204  RENAJ    OR,   THE   SNOWBIRD. 

"  She  shall  not  droop,"  interrupted  Sherwood,  passionately ; 
"  I  will  bear  her  up,  as  on  an  eagle's  wing  !  she  shall  bask  in 
the  eternal  sunshine  of  love.  Only  give  me  time,  a  littl: 
time,  and  I  know  my  father  will  consent.  He  loves  me  !  I 
have  felt  his  tears  upon  my  cheek.  Yes  !  he  has  a  heart  1 
Be  not  more  inexorable  than  he." 

"  Time  !"  repeated  Colonel  Fay,  thoughtfully ;  "  yes,  time 
does  wondrous  things !  Let  us  leave  it  to  time.  You  are 
both  very  young;  you  have  not  yet  acquired  your  profession  ; 
she  is  a  mere  child.  Do  not  keep  up  any  clandestine  inter- 
course. Tempt  her  not  into  a  correspondence.  I  would  not 
that  a  letter,  written  by  a  child  of  mine,  should  fall  into  your 
father's  hands.  In  the  mean  time,  be  assured  of  my  affections, 
my  gratitude,  and  my  confidence.  As  I  said  before,  time  does 
wondrous  things,  and  you  are  yet  in  the  morning  of  life.  Be 
satisfied  with  the  promise  I  now  give  you.  My  sister's 
wrongs,  my  own  deep  sense  of  them,  shall  not  present  an 
insurmountable  obstacle  to  your  union.  I  will  sacrifice  all 
personal  animosity  for  your  mutual  happiness.  But  your 
father  must  sacrifice  Jit's  pride  also.  He  must  meet  me  at  the 
altar,  and  present  his  burnt  offering  too.  My  child  must  not 
be  the  victim." 

Sherwood  felt  there  was  dignity  and  truth  and  justice  in 
this  decree ;  and  there  was  something  about  Colonel  Fay  that 
stamped  it  with  immutability.  But  he  was  young  and  hope- 
ful, and  was  sure  that  every  obstacle  must  give  way  at  last, 
before  the  omnipotence  of  love.  The  stain  upon  his  father's 
honour,  however,  was  ineffaceable,  and  it  darkened  his  name. 
It  shook  his  trust  in  the  honour  and  integrity  of  man.  He 
treated  Aunt  Debby  with  a  respect,  a  deference  he  had  never 
done  before.  Her  wrongs  made  her  sacred  in  his  eyes.  He  now 
understood  the  idiosyncrasy  of  her  character,  and  upbraided 
himself  for  his  past  injustice. 

This  was  the  last  night  of  Sherwood's  stay.     It  was  one  of 


f       RENA;  OR,  THE  SNO\V^IRD.  205 

those  still,  cold,  shining  nights,  that  so  often  gild  the  gloom 
of  winter,  when  every  ray  that  fulls  upon  the  earth's  bosom 
of  snow  is  reflected,  not  one  absorbed.  The  young  people  of 
the  village  had  planned  a  sleigh-ride,  to  indemnify  themselves 
for  their  disappointment  on  Thanksgiving  eve,  when  the  storm 
kept  them  so  closely  within  doors.  This  is  one  of  the  most 
exhilarating  pleasures  of  a  northern  winter,  and  youth  enters 
into  it  with  a  zest  which  more  quiet  in-door  enjoyments  can 
never  inspire.  The  dazzling  expanse,  the  apparent  infinitude 
of  the  scene,  where,  far  as  the  eye  can  reach,  there  is  nothing 
but  spotless  white;  the  sparkling  atmosphere,  the  brilliant 
scinctillations  of  the  stars,  that  sparkle  with  aurora  borealian 
lustre ;  the  gay  music  of  the  silvery  tinkling  bells,  the  swift 
motion  of  the  gliding  sleighs,  the  bird-like  flight  of  the  horses, 
as  they  skim,  with  noiseless  hoofs,  the  smooth-trodden  path — 
all  these  exciting  influences  make  the  tide  of  youthful  spirits 
flow  high;  and  bright  flashing  eyes,  glowing  cheeks,  and 
merry,  bell-like  laughter,  harmonize  with  them  as  beautifully 
as  the  crystalline  heavens  with  the  white,  shining  earth. 
Henry  and  Stella,  Sherwood  and  Rena,  joined  the  gay  party. 
As  the  girls  were  shawling  and  cloaking,  Rena,  who  had 
noticed  Stella's  predilection  for  the  red  mantle,  was  about  to 
throw  it  over  her  shoulders,  when  Sherwood  caught  it  and 
wrapped  it  round  her  own. 

"You  must  be  in  uniform  to-night,  Rena,"  said  he,  un- 
twisting a  little  scarlet  band  from  his  neck,  and  twining  it 
round  her  head  in  Creolian  style.  The  "  sprite,  gipsy,  snow- 
bird," stood  confused.  Stella  cast  a  withering  glance  upon 
her,  as,  with  her  vermilion  crown  flashing  on  the  darkness  of 
her  hair,  and  scarlet  drapery  so  carelessly,  gracefully  arranged, 
she  bowed  her  eyes  before  the  gaze  of  Sherwood.  As  ho 
turned  towards  Colonel  Fay,  who  approached  him,  he  arrested 
this  withering  glance,  and  though  the  moment  she  was  aware 
that  he  saw  her,  she  called  back  the  starry  beam  to  her  ceru- 


206  RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD. 

lean  orbs,  she  had  made  an  impression  that  could  not  be 
effaced.  It  is  a  pity  Henry  had  not  seen  the  glance,  and 
felt  the  same  recoil ;  but  never  had  the  young  syren  so  com- 
pletely bewitched  him  as  when,  seated  at  his  side,  under  the 
game  buffalo  skin,  she  reflected  from  her  face  the  brightness 
of  the  heavens  till  it  became  almost  insupportable  to  him. 
Her  golden  hair  formed  a  halo  round  her  brow,  such  as  is 
seen  in  the  pictures  of  the  Virgin  Mary.  It  glorified  her 
beauty;  and  Henry  could  have  scarcely  restrained  himself 
from  kneeling  down  and  worshipping  her,  in  the  madness  of 
his  devotion,  if  he  could  have  done  so  and  sustained  his  cha- 
racter as  a  driver.  As  it  was,  he  had  the  reins  in  his  hand 
and  the  horse  to  guide;  but  as  he  looked  at  Stella  much  more 
than  the  horse,  he  did  upset  her  in  a  snow-bank,  to  her  own 
mortification  and  the  excessive  merriment  of  the  whole  party. 
A  sleigh-ride,  without  some  one's  getting  a  somerset  in  the 
snow,  would  be  an  anomaly ;  and  as  there  is  seldom  any  dan- 
ger in  such  accidents,  they  only  give  a  spring  to  mirth  at  the 
moment,  and  a  subject  for  after  jests. 

The  next  morning,  when  Sherwood  commenced  his  solitary 
ride,  there  was  no  smile  on  his  lip,  no  radiance  in  his  eye. 
He  felt  as  if  he  were  leaving  all  smiles  and  brightness  behind 
him.  Casting  one  glance  to  an  upper  window,  where  the 
folds  of  the  curtain  trembled,  showing  that  some  one  was  con- 
cealed by  the  drapery,  he  drew  his  hat  over  his  brow  and 
passed  under  the  naked  branches  that  bowed  over  the  gate. 
He  was  obliged  to  take  a  road  that  curved  round  the  back  of 
the  house,  in  consequence  of  the  ruined  bridge,  quite  an 
unfrequented  path,  where  the  snow  was  unusually  deep.  So 
completely  was  he  absorbed  in  his  own  reflections,  that  he  did 
not  observe  a  light  figure  standing  by  the  way-side,  till  he 
heard  his  name  softly  spoken,  and  looking  up,  he  beheld 
Stella,  enveloped  in  her  cloak,  with  a  small  bundle  in  her 
hand. 


RENAJ   OR,   THE   SNOWBIRD.  207 

"  Will  Mr.  Sherwood  Lindsey  give  me  a  seat  in  his  sleigh, 
if  it  is  not  asking  too  great  a  favour  ?"  asked  she  with  an 
enchanting  smile. 

Vexed  at  being  disturbed  at  a  moment  sacred  to  remem- 
brance, astonished  at  her  being  abroad,  when  he  had  so  re- 
cently bade  her  good-bye  in  the  sitting-room,  in  her  usual 
apparel,  he  nevertheless  had  too  much  habitual  politeness  to 
refuse  a  seat  to  a  lady,  who  was  standing  ankle-deep  in  snow. 
Stella  sprang  in  with  a  glow  of  triumph  that  neutralized  the 
chill  of  the  morning  air.  They  rode  on  in  silence  a  short 
distance,  for  Sherwood  was  too  much  displeased  to  enter  into 
conversation.  He  had  not  forgotten  the  malignant  glance  he 
had  arrested  the  preceding  evening,  and  which  the  effulgence 
of  her  beauty  rendered  dazzlingly  wicked,  and  the  manner  in 
which  she  forced  herself  upon  him,  after  knowing  his  father's 
prohibition  and  his  own  promise,  was  bold  and  indelicate.  It 
seemed  sacrilege  to  the  feelings  he  cherished  for  llcna  to  have 
Stella  seated  at  his  side,  while  Rena's  parting  tear  was  scarcely 
dried  upon  his  cheeks,  and  the  throbbings  of  her  pure  and  lov- 
ing heart  yet  warm  upon  his  own.  Finding  that  she  did  not 
give  any  evidence  of  a  desire  to  stop,  he  asked  rather  impa- 
tiently, 

"  How  far  do  you  think  of  going  this  morning?" 

There  was  something  so  cold  and  haughty  in  his  manner, 
so  different  from  his  usual  gentleness  and  courtesy,  that  the 
bold,  intriguing  girl  began  to  think  she  might  possibly  have 
gone  too  far,  and  that  he  would  refuse  to  co-operate  with  her 
in  her  wil4  purpose.  But  she  hazarded  nothing  but  the  loss 
of  his  esteem,  and  she  resolved  to  risk  everything  in  the  hope 
of  success. 

"  Be  not  astonished,  Sherwood,"  said  she,  calmly ;  "  when 
you  know  all  my  reasons,  you  will  justify  me.  I  wish  to 
accompany  you  to  the  city,  where  I  am  determined  to  find  a 
home,  where  the  degraded  name  of  the  charity  girl  was  nevej 
heard." 


208  RENA;  on,  THE  SNOWBIRD. 

"  To  the  city  !"  exclaimed  Sherwood,  stopping  his  horse  so 
suddenly,  that  it  fell  back  on  its  haunches.  "Are  you  mad, 
Stella  ?  or  do  you  think  I  am  ?  What,  in  the  name  of  reason 
and  common  sense,  do  you  expect  me  to  do  with  you,  after 
you  get  there  ?" 

"Nothing,"  cried  she,  proudly,  stung  to  the  soul  by  his 
disdain  ;  "  I  only  want  your  protection  on  the  journey.  When 
we  arrive,  I  can  take  care  of  myself." 

"Take  care  of  yourself!"  repeated  he,  "a  fine  self-guar- 
dian you  would  be,  so  young  and  inexperienced,  in  the  heart 
of  a  great  city  !  You  know  not  what  you  are  thinking  of !  I 
begin  to  think  you  are  a  candidate  for  the  Insane  Asylum !" 

He  looked  inquiringly  and  anxiously  in  her  face,  to  detect 
the  symptoms  of  incipient  insanity. 

"  No,  Sherwood,  I  am  not  crazy.  This  is  no  sudden  frenzy. 
I  have  long  resolved  to  enter  a  milliner's  establishment  in  the 
city,  as  soon  as  I  had  a  fitting  opportunity.  I  will  not  stay 
where  I  am  only  looked  upon  as  the  child  of  charity,  the 
foundling  of  the  almshouse.  There  I  can  make  myself  a  name 
and  fame  too ;"  added  she,  her  eyes  kindling  with  anticipated 
admiration. 

"  Poor,  deluded  Stella !" — said  Sherwood,  in  a  kinder  tone, 
for  he  felt  intense  pity  for  her  infatuation — "  relinquish  your 
impracticable  design,  and  return  to  the  friends  who  have 
cherished  you  from  your  orphan  infancy,  and  whose  counsels 
will  guide  your  unprotected  youth.  Once  more,  I  say,  make 
a  friend  of  Rena,  who  would  cherish  you  as  a  sister,  if  you 
would  let  her." 

"  Sherwood !  you  love  Rena !"  cried  she,  bitterly ;  "  and  you 
despise  me,  because  I  am  poor !" 

"  I  acknowledge  the  truth  and  the  whole  truth  of  your  first 
assertion,  and  I  glory  in  it !  I  do  love  Rena !  I  love  her  for 
her  truth,  goodness,  and  purity;  her  warm  and  generous  heart; 
that  heart  which  never  felt  for  you  any  but  the  teoderest  emo- 


RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD.  209 

tions,  and  whose  kindness  you  ungratefully  spurn.  I  do  not 
despise  you,  nor  contemn  your  poverty.  I  did  feel  for  you  a 
brotherly  interest  and  affection,  Stella,  which  will  revive  the 
moment  you  recall  your  better  nature.  But  what  will  people 
think  of  us,  sitting  here  so  long  talking  in  the  cold  ?  I  have 
a  long  day's  journey  before  me.  This  is  too  ridiculous. 
Really,  Stella,  you  must  excuse  me.  Let  me  help  you  out  of 
the  sleigh." 

Stella  jumped  out  and  turned  upon  him  with  the  fierceness 
of  a  young  panther,  baffled  of  its  prey.  All  her  passions 
were  excited  and  blazing  in  her  breast. 

"Then  you  will  not  take  me!"  she  cried;  "you  cast  me 
into  the  snow-drift,  less  cold  than  yourself!  You  have  not 
the  spirit  of  a  man,  and  I  despise  you !  You  are  cruel  and 
selfish,  and  I  hate  you  !  You  are  afraid  of  your  proud  father, 
who  turned  me  out  of  doors !  You  are  afraid  of  the  jealousy 
of  a  fond  and  passionate  girl !  There  is  not  another  young 
man  in  the  world  who  would  have  slighted  and  scorned  me 
thus !  I  know  there  is  not !" 

"  I  do  not  scorn  you,"  repeated  he,  with  a  calmness  that 
exasperated  her  more  than  the  most  angry  reproaches  would 
have  done.  "  You  will  think  of  me  hereafter  with  gratitude, 
and  thank  me  for  saving  you  from  the  consequences  of  your 
own  rashness.  Return,  I  beseech  you,  to  the  hospitable  roof 
you  have  just  quitted.  Return,  and  make  yourself  worthy 
of  the  esteem  of  the  excellent  Aunt  Debby;  the  just,  the 
noble  Colonel  Fay ;  the  tender  and  disinterested  Rena.  Fare- 
well. Maj  God  bless  you,  and  make  you  worthy  of  his  bless- 
ing." 

Thus  gravely  speaking,  calm  in  youthful  beauty,  he  bowed 
his  head,  drew  the  dark  fur  drapery  of  his  sleigh  more  closely 
round  him,  lightly  touched  the  neck  of  his  spirited  horse  with 
his  whip,  and  darted  off,  while  the  buffalo  skin  sweeping  over 


210  RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD. 

the  back  of  the  cutter,  looked  like  the  wing  of  nn  eagle  float- 
ing near  the  earth. 

Stella  stood  still  a  moment,  gazing  after  him  darkly,  vin- 
dictively; then  throwing  herself  down  in  the  snow,  she 
clutched  it  with  her  hands,  like  a  desperate,  impotent  child. 

"  I  will  stay  here  and  let  them  run  over  me  !"  said  she  to 
herself.  "  I  don't  care — I  don't  want  to  live — I  hate  myself 
and  everybody  else  I" 

Poor,  sinful,  undisciplined  child  of  passion  !  "  You  don't 
want  to  live  ?"  Can  you  quench  the  burning  spark  of  vitality 
by  burying  your  bosom  in  the  snow-drift  ?  Do  you  expect 
even  by  a  change  of  existence  to  escape  the  tortures  of  your 
evil  and  goading  thoughts  ?  Do  you  think  when  you  have  no 
dull,  clogging  flesh,  to  impede  your  spirit's  action,  no  sheath 
for  your  fiery  nerves,  no  prison-cage  for  your  wild  passions ; 
when  you  are  given  up,  a  bodiless  soul,  to  their  unchained 
fury,  do  you  expect  happiness  and  peace  ?  Ungrateful  child  ! 
you  murmur  at  your  lot  of  dependence  and  orphanage.  We 
are  all  orphans — all  exiles  from  our  heavenly  home.  The 
earth  is  one  vast  almshouse,  where  the  poor  and  needy  are 
gathered  together,  sustained  by  a  common  benefactor,  protected 
by  a  universal  guardian ;  yet  we  all  hunger  after  food  that  is 
not  given  to  our  craving  lips — we  all  pant  for  waters  which  flow 
back  from  our  burning  thirst ;  we  reject  the  bounties  bestowed, 
and  pine  for  those  which  are  in  mercy  withheld.  Like  thee, 
rash  girl,  when  disappointed  in  the  fruition  of  our  hopes,  we 
fall  into  the  impotence  of  despair,  and  exclaim — "  we  would 
not  live !" — as  if  we  could  hurl  back  into  the  face  of  the 
Almighty  Giver  the  glorious  gift  of  immortality,  and  stifle,  at 
our  own  will,  the  flame  that  eternity  burns  to  renew. 

Slowly  and  stiffly  Stella  rose,  and  shaking  the  snow  from 
her  cloak,  turned  her  steps  homeward.  She  entered  the  house 
by  the  back  way,  and  had  nearly  reached  her  chamber,  when 
she  met  Aunt  Deb  by  at  a  turning  of  the  stairs.  There  was 


RENAJ    OR,   THE   SNOWBIRD.  211 

such  a  strange  expression  in  the  pale  face  of  th«  girl,  that 
Aunt  Debby  stopped  in  alarm. 

"  Where  have  you  been  so  early  ?"  said  she,  observing  the 
thick  wreaths  of  snow  that  still  clung  to  her  dark  cloak. 
"  And  what  makes  you  look  so  pale  ?  are  you  ill,  child  ?" 

"No,"  answered  Stella,  petulantly;  "I  have  been  to  taki 
a  walk  !  I  am  cold,  that  is  all.  Please,  let  me  pass." 

She  said  please,  but  her  tone  was  that  of  command ;  and 
with  an  air,  which  Aunt  Debby  did  not  think  at  all  graceful 
or  becoming,  she  swept  by  her,  and  hurried  to  her  room. 

"  That  girl  has  an  evil  spirit  in  her,"  muttered  Aunt  Debby, 
as  she  went  down  stairs ;  "  I  do  really  think  she  has ;  there 
is  a  depth  of  cunning  in  her  I  can't  fathom,  young  as  she  is. 
I  wish  I  had  not  brought  her  here.  But  Rena  hung  round 
me  with  her  coaxing  ways,  and  said,  'Dear  Aunt  Debby,  I 
pity  her  so  much,  she  has  no  kind  father  and  mother  like  rne 
to  welcome  her  to  a  Thanksgiving  feast.'  Bless  that  kind 
little  heart  of  hers,  it  carries  all  before  it — All,"  repeated  she, 
in  a  dubious  tone ;  "  I  hope  it  will,  I  hope  it  will." 

When  Stella  entered  the  room,  she  found  Rena  sitting  by 
the  fire  in  a  dejected  attitude.  The  expression  of  her  face 
was  sad,  and  there  was  a  shadow  round  her  eyes  that  showed 
she  had  been  weeping.  She  knew  the  conditions  her  father 
had  imposed  on  Sherwood,  and  though  her  heart  did  not  rebel, 
it  had  a  leaden  weight  upon  it,  that  pressed  it  down  more 
heavily  than  any  other  sorrow  had  done.  She  believed  in 
Mr.  Lindsey's  implacable  pride,  and  thought  if  her  union  with 
Sherwood  depended  upon  the  bending  of  his  iron  will,  it  was 
a  case  of  desperation.  Still  she  was  of  too  hopeful  a  nature 
to  give  up  to  despair,  as  she  was  too  tender  and  confiding  not 
to  wish  for  sympathy.  She  knew  she  had  sympathy  j  for  her 
father  had  kissed  her  pale  cheek  and  called  her  his  darling 
again  and  again.  Aunt  Debby  had  tenderly  caressed  her,  and 
told  her  it  was  all  nonsense  to  feel  sad  at  her  time  of  life ; 


212  fcENAj    OR,   THE   SNOWBIRD. 

then  adding,  with  a  solemn  voice,  "  to  reserve  her  tears  till 
his  confidence  was  betrayed."  But  she  longed  for  some 
youthful  confidante,  to  whom  she  could  unbosom  all  her  feel- 
ings, and  pour  out  the  aching  fulness  of  her  love.  If  Stella 
•were  such  a  friend,  with  what  eagerness  would  she  turn  to 
her,  with  what  trust  confide  in  her  ! 

She  lifted  up  her  saddened  eyes  as  Stella  came  near, 
and  wondered,  as  Aunt  Debby  did,  to  see  her  in  such  a 
costume. 

"  Have  you  been  walking,  Stella  ?"  said  she,  making  room 
for  her  at  the  fire-side. 

"  I  don't  know  what  there  is  so  strange  if  I  have,  that  every- 
body should  question  me  so  closely,"  answered  she,  pulling 
impatiently  at  the  strings  of  her  cloak  and  hood. 

"  I  did  not  think  of  offending  you  by  asking,"  said  Rena, 
gently.  "  You  seem  very  cold ;  let  me  untie  this  string ;  your 
hands  are  numb ;  there,  take  my  seat,  it  is  the  warmest." 

Rena  took  Stella's  snowy  cloak  and  hung  it  over  the  back 
of  a  chair,  and  began  to  chafe  her  cold  hands  in  hers,  though 
Stella  evidently  tried  to  release  them.  She  avoided  Rena's 
soft,  wistful  eyes,  and  folded  her  arms  round  herself  with  a 
nervous  shudder.  Rena  stood  by  her  in  silence,  a  few  moments, 
then  throwing  her  arras  impulsively  round  her  neck,  she  pressed 
her  cheek  on  those  glittering  ringlets,  fit  only  to  encircle  an 
angel's  brow. 

"  Oh !  Stella,"  she  exclaimed,  "  close  not  up  your  heart 
against  me.  Let  me  love  you,  and  love  me  back  again.  I  feel 
so  desolate  just  now.  It  seems  as  if  I  had  lost  all  I  love  on 
earth,  and  I  yearn  for  something  to  fill  the  aching  void.  I 
have  been  so  happy  these  few  days,  so  very  happy.  The 
world  seemed  a  Paradise." 

"  Yes,  Rena,  I  know  you  have  been  happy,"  replied  Stella, 
gloomily,  "  and  if  I  were  in  your  place,  I  would  be  happy  now. 
You  have  memory  to  live  upon,  I  have  nothing — nothing." 


RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD.  213 

The  reaction  that  follows  great  excitement,  pressed  heavily 
on  Stella's  spirits.  Even  a  faint  gleam  of  sympathy  for  Rena 
lighted  up  the  darkness  of  her  selfishness.  Rena,  dejected 
and  alone,  was  very  different  from  Rena  gay  and  triumphant, 
sunning  herself  in  Sherwood's  beaming  eyes. 

And  now  Sherwood  had  so  disdainfully  shaken  off  the 
snare  she  had  endeavoured  to  throw  around  him,  she  turned 
her  thoughts  to  Henry,  and  determined  to  make  him  subservi- 
ent to  her  designs.  She  could  twist  him  into  an  easy  and  con- 
venient tool.  So,  as  reflection  calmed  the  artful  girl,  and 
brought  her  back  to  a  sense  of  her  true  condition,  she  thought 
it  best  to  smooth  her  ruffled  brow,  dissemble  her  bitter  disap- 
pointment, and  return  with  false  tenderness  Rena's  endearing 
caresses. 

It  was  strange  that  Colonel  Fay  and  Aunt  Debby  did  uofc 
seem  to  fear  her  influence  on  Henry,  but  they  had  been  so  ac- 
customed to  look  upon  Henry  as  a  girlish  boy,  they  could  not 
think  of  him  as  the  lover  of  a  girl;  and  they  both  were  so 
deeply  interested  in  Rena's  prospects,  so  iutent  upon  the  cloud 
that  darkened  them,  they  suffered  minor  things  to  pass  unheeded. 
Rena  was  the  only  one  whose  anxiety  was  awakened  for  Henry. 
She  had  so  many  contradictory  feelings  herself  with  regard  to 
Stella,  that  she  was  bewildered  and  unhappy.  Sometimes 
she  distrusted  and  disliked  her,  then  again  she  was  attracted, 
charmed,  and  reproached  herself,  that  she  had  not  always  loved 
her,  and  resolved  that  she  never  would  suspect  her  truth.  A 
glance  perhaps,  a  smile,  a  certain  indescribable  something, 
would  bring  back  distrust  and  fear  and  repulsion.  Stella  was 
an  en'gma  which  the  single-hearted  Rena  tried  in  vain  to 
solve. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

"  Oh !  stay  thy  hand,  deluded  one, 
Oh !  stay  thy  hand !"  she  said ; 
The  gold  is  accursed  that  is  not  thy  own, 
'Twill  burn  like  molten  lead !"  BALLAD. 

"  WELCOME  to  Sunny  Dell,  Henry !"  exclaimed  Aunt  Debby. 
*'  It  is  long  since  you  have  been  my  guest." 

"  I  can  hardly  call  myself  a  guest,  aunt,  since  I  have  to  leave 
you  so  soon,"  replied  the  young  collegian.  "  To-morrow  morn- 
ing, long  before  sunrise,  I  must  be  away,  for  my  holidays  are 
over." 

Henry  had  accompanied  the  travellers  on  their  homeward 
journey,  though  by  so  doing  he  doubled  the  length  of  his 
own.  Stella  had  hinted  a  wish  for  his  companionship,  and  he 
would  willingly  have  walked  in  the  snow  the  whole  distance  if 
he  could  have  secured  a  place  near  Tier  at  the  same  time. 

Stella,  who  had  by  no  means  relinquished  her  bold  design, 
watched  her  opportunity  of  speaking  alone  with  Henry,  and, 
unfortunately  for  him,  it  was  thrown  in  her  way  so  naturally 
as  to  escape  observation.  They  were  left  together  accidentally, 
and,  fearful  of  interruption,  she  at  once  revealed  to  the  as- 
tounded and  infatuated  boy  her  wild  plans,  and  her  confidence 
in  his  will  and  power  to  assist  her.  He  had  too  little  worldly 
wisdom  to  understand  all  the  rashness  of  the  enterprise,  or  the 
discredit  it  might  reflect  on  himself.  He  was  only  awake  to 
the  incredible,  the  maddening  idea  that  Stella  was  going  with 
him,  under  his  guardianship,  going  where  he  could  have  abun- 
dant opportunities  of  seeing  her,  and  gazing  on  the  beautiful 

(214) 


RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD.  215 

being  who  had  absorbed  all  the  rays  of  his  heart.  She  en- 
joined on  him  the  most  perfect  secrecy,  promising  to  arrange 
everything  for  her  own  departure.  He  must  bid  his  aunt  and 
sister  farewell  before  they  retired  to  rest,  as  the  stage  started 
in  the  darkness  of  night,  and  he  would  not  wish  to  disturb 
their  repose. 

Henry  was  so  agitated  by  this  disclosure  he  was  obliged  to 
take  a  long  walk  in  the  cold  air,  before  his  mind  was  composed 
enough  to  speak  rationally.  At  supper,  he  committed  so  many 
blunders  Rena  looked  at  him  in  astonishment.  He  held  out 
his  tea-cup  for  a  slice  of  butter,  and  poured  ham-gravy,  in- 
stead of  cream,  in  a  saucer  of  preserves.  He  blushed  at  his 
own  awkwardness,  wondering  at  the  serene  self-possession  of 
Stella,  who  smiled  at  his  mistakes  and  kindly  rectified  them. 

It  sometimes  seems  as  if  Providence  smoothed  the  way  in 
the  path  of  the  evil,  and  allowed  them  every  facility  for  the 
accomplishment  of  their  purposes;  "ind  man,  in  his  blindness, 
might  be  tempted  to  believe  that  the  great  Power  which  per- 
mitted this  combination  of  favouring  circumstances,  sanctioned 
their  deeds.  But  sooner  or  later  a  day  of  reckoning  comes, 
and  the  revealed  angel  of  Providence  justifies  its  dealings  to 
the  world. 

As  they  all  sat  round  the  evening  fire,  a  gentleman  called 
on  Aunt  Debby,  to  pay  her  the  interest  of  some  money.  He 
was  her  agent  in  business,  and  as  she  had  considerable  noney 
at  interest,  it  was  a  responsible  situation. 

"Rena,  child,"  said  her  aunt,  when  the  man  of  business 
had  retired,  "  take  these  bank-bills  and  put  them  in  the  little 
right-hand  desk-drawer  in  your  summer  room.  I  am  going  to 
make  you  my  treasurer  and  secretary.  It  is  time  you  were 
learning  business  habits." 

Aunt  Debby  took  a  key  suspended  from  a  black  cord,  and 
hung  it  round  Rena's  neck,  who,  telling  her  aunt  she  felt 

highly  honoured  by  her  confidence  and  would  never  abuse  it, 

48 


216  RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD. 

ran  up  stairs  and  deposited  the  money  in  a  small  drawer, 
within  the  outside  drawer,  and  after  Living  locked  it,  she 
gave  the  handles  a  strong  pull,  to  be  certain  she  had  secured 
it  tight.  This  summer  room  of  Kena's  was  situated  on  the 
north  side  of  the  house,  and  commanded  a  prospect  of  Belle- 
vue  and  its  lordly  environs.  It  was  separated  from  the  cham- 
ber she  now  occupied,  by  a  long  passage.  Aunt  Debby  slept 
in  a  bed-room  below,  so  this  apartment  was  left  in  its  lone 
stillness,  undisturbed  by  the  echoes  of  the  more  busy  part  of 
the  house.  Perhaps  it  would  have  been  wiser  for  Aunt  Debby 
to  have  had  her  money  placed  in  an  occupied  room,  but  that 
was  emphatically  the  money-drawer,  and  a  robbery  had  never 
been  committed  in  that  part  of  the  world.  She  dreamed  not 
of  such  a  contingency. 

As  Rena  passed  Stella,  with  the  roll  in  her  hand,  the  latter 
was  about  to  accompany  her  and  hold  the  light  for  her,  but 
something  held  her  back  and  whispered  she  had  better  stay 
behind.  The  Tempter  was  at  her  elbow,  his  hissing  tongue  in 
her  ear,  his  poison  in  her  heart.  All  she  wanted  was  money, 
to  carry  out  her  plans  triumphantly.  She  had  no  fears  on 
this  account,  when  she  hoped  for  the  assistance  of  Sherwood, 
but  the  farmer's  son  might  not  be  so  liberally  supplied,  and 
she  had  been  brooding  over  this  want  in  deep  anxiety.  The 
child  who  secreted  the  golden  pippins,  and  suffered  the  odium 
of  the  act  to  rest  on  her  innocent  companion,  showed  a  moral 
obliquity  as  great  as  the  girl  of  seventeen  who  meditated  the 
midnight  robbery,  under  the  roof  of  a  benefactress. 

Aunt  Debby  proposed  an  early  hour  for  retiring,  as  they 
were  all  weary,  and  Henry  must  get  what  sleep  he  could 
before  his  departure. 

"  Good-bye,  my  dear  boy !"  said  Aunt  Debby,  taking  his 
hand,  and  patting  him  affectionately  on  his  head,  her  favour- 
ite love-token,  "  we  shall  all  be  asleep  when  you  start,  so  we 
jinst  bid  you  God-speed  to-night.  Make  a  man  of  y  )urself 


RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD.  217 

this  year,  for  it  is  your  last  in  college.  I'm  glad  to  see  you've 
cut  off  those  dangling  curls.  Get  a  little  wholesome  brown 
on  your  cheek,  and  a  little  more  iron  here,"  transferring  her 
hand  from  the  head  to  the  heart,  "  and  you  will  get  along. 
God  bless  you,  Henry  I" 

Henry's  heart  swelled  almost  to  bursting  at  his  aunt's  part- 
ing blessing.  He  felt  that  he  did  not  deserve  it.  He  was 
about  to  deceive  her,  and  engage  in  an  act,  which,  if  known, 
would  draw  upon  him  her  displeasure  and  that  of  all  his 
friends.  And  when  Rena  put  her  arms  round  his  neck,  call- 
ing him  her  dear,  darling,  only  brother,  and  kissing  the  good- 
bye her  faltering  lips  refused  to  utter,  the  poor  youth,  bur- 
dened with  his  secret,  could  not  repress  the  tears  that  he  was 
ashamed  of  shedding.  Stella,  she  too  must  bid  him  farewell, 
to  avoid  suspicion. 

"  Good-bye,  Henry  1"  said  she,  pressing  his  cold  hand,  and 
giving  him  a  dazzling  glance,  as  she  followed  Rena's  lingering 
steps. 

The  house  was  soon  dark  and  still — dark,  save  a  lamp  left 
burning  in  the  dining-room,  for  Henry's  accommodation. 
Rena,  completely  overcome  by  fatigue,  in  consequence  of  hav- 
ing travelled  the  preceding  night,  fell  asleep  almost  as  soon 
as  her  cheek  pressed  the  pillow.  Stella,  who  had  only  par*" 
tially  undressed,  wrapped  her  cloak  around  her,  and  sat  down 
till  Rena's  slumbers  deepened  into  a  sound  repose.  Then  ris- 
ing, she  purposely  overturned  a  chair  to  test  the  depth  of  hei 
sleep.  Still  the  soft  uniform  breathing  continued,  and  Stella, 
emboldened,  took  down  the  key  Rena  had  hung  from  one  of 
the  knobs  that  supported  the  looking-glass,  and  wound  the 
cord  round  her  fingers.  Everything  had  been  still  a  long 
time  in  Aunt  Debby's  room,  which  was  directly  below ;  and 
at  last,  shading  the  light  with  one  hand,  so  as  to  prevent  its 
rays  from  flashing  on  the  bed,  she  stole  out  of  the  room  in 
her  stocking-feet,  and  gliding  through  the  long  passage,  en- 


218  RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD. 

tered  the  chamber,  the  same  chamber  in  which  Rena  hr.d  lis- 
tened to  Aunt  Debby's  thrilling  story.  There  is  something 
solemn  in  moving  about  in  the  silence  of  night,  making  a  lit- 
tle narrow  path  through  the  darkness  with  a  solitary  lamp. 
One  feels  as  if  they  were  the  only  living,  breathing  thing  on 
earth,  and  the  beating  of  one's  own  heart  has  a  loud,  strange, 
and  warning  sound.  If  such  are  the  emotions  when  a  good 
and  holy  purpose  calls  one  from  the  couch  of  rest,  how  must 
they  be  aggravated  when  crime  is  the  incentive,  and  the  shadow 
of  guilt  falls  darkly  behind  ? 

Stella  started  and  with  difficulty  suppressed  a  shriek,  as 
passing  the  looking-glass,  she  beheld  a  white  face,  glittering 
eyes  that  shone  like  ignited  steel,  and  a  dark,  shrouded  form, 
skulking  along  by  her  side.  She  did  not  at  first  recognise 
herself,  and  recoiled  as  from  a  detecting  ghost.  At  length  her 
clammy  hands  turned  the  key,  opened  the  drawers,  and  seized 
the  money.  Just  in  front  of  the  desk  she  dropped  a  kid 
glove,  which  she  drew  from  her  bosom.  It  was  small  as  a 
girl's,  but  on  the  margin  was  written  a  boy's  name.  It  was 
Henry's,  that  she  had  stolen  from  his  hat  in  the  course  of  the 
evening.  If  Aunt  Debby  or  Rena  saw  this  token,  they  would 
believe  him  the  robber,  and  from  family  pride  or  affection  keep 
their  lips  sealed.  So  coolly,  so  deliberately,  had  this  youthful 
offender  planned  and  executed  her  first  daring  transgression. 
Slipping  the  money  in  her  pocket,  and  avoiding  the  glass  as 
she  passed  by,  a  new  terror  awaited  her  at  the  door.  The 
arm-hole  of  her  cloak  caught  in  the  latch,  and  she  believed 
the  avenger  of  sin  was  behind  her.  She  heard  the  ticking  of 
the  clock  down  in  the  family  sitting-room,  and  every  stroke 
sounded  as  if  "  Thief !  thief !"  rung  from  its  brazen  tongue. 
"  If  I  ever  steal  again,"  thought  she,  "  I  will  never  do  it  in 
the  night — never  /" 

The  guilty  girl  re-entered  the  chamber  of  sleeping  inno- 
vence,  and  put  back  the  key  where  Rena  had  hung  it.  Sweetly 


RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD.  219 

as  an  infant  Kena  still  slept,  unconscious  that  the  footsteps  of 
crime  were  stealing  near  her. 

Stella,  whose  trunk  was  down  stairs,  packed  and  ready,  just 
as  it  was  brought  in  from  the  journey,  had  no  preparation  to 
make.  She  was  almost  frozen,  and  scarcely  could  she  keep 
her  teeth  from  chattering  under  her  icy  lips.  As  she  was 
about  to  extinguish  the  light,  knowing  she  would  find  one 
burning  in  the  room  below,  she  cast  a  last  glance  on  Rena's 
sweet  and  peaceful  face.  Softly,  almost  imperceptibly,  the 
white  sheet  rose  and  fell  to  her  gentle  breathing,  and  softly 
the  shadow  of  her  long  dark  lashes  fell  upon  her  cheek. 
Stella  contrasted  the  countenance  before  her  with  the  one  she 
had  seen  mirrored  in  the  glass  a  few  moments  before,  and  a 
pang  sharp  as  the  stab  of  a  stiletto  cut  right  through  her  heart. 
"  It  is  not  too  late.  That  anguish  may  be  thy  salvation  yet. 
Return  the  money,  unburden  thy  guilty  conscience,  lie  down 
by  the  side  of  that  virgin  innocence,  and  let  her  virtues  be 
transfused  into  thy  own  bosom.  The  recording  angel  has  a 
blotting  tear  for  thee.  Return  !  lost  girl,  return  1"  Thus  ap- 
pealed the  guardian  spirit,  that  had  not  yet  forsaken  her ;  and 
even  after  she  had  quitted  that  charmed  atmosphere,  and  sat 
crouching  over  the  smouldering  embers  below,  starting  as  the 
watch-dog  howled  or  the  chickens  crowed,  the  "  still,  small 
voice"  murmured  in  her  ear — "  Return !  return !" 

The  next  morning  when  Rena  arose,  she  saw,  with  asto- 
nishment, that  the  pillow  of  Stella  was  unpressed — the  room 
bore  no  traces  of  her  presence.  She  might  have  arisen  and 
dressed,  and  descended  without  awaking  her;  but  the  un- 
ruffled pillow  was  a  mystery.  She  hurried  through  her  toilet, 
and  went  down  stairs  as  quickly  as  possible. 

"  Have  you  seen  Stella  ?"  asked  she  of  the  housemaid. 

"  Have  you  seen  Stella  V  asked  she  of  Aunt  Debby.  The 
answer  was  still  "  No." 

Breakfast  came  and  passed,  and  nothing  was  seen  of  Stella. 


220  RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD. 

At  length  they  perceived  that  her  trunk  was  gone,  and  a  sus- 
picion of  the  truth  glanced  into  their  minds.  This  suspicion 
assumed  the  character  of  certainty  when  they  discerned  the 
track  of  slender  feet  in  the  snow,  by  the  side  of  Henry's,  on 
the  spot  where  the  stage  stopped.  She  had  never  spoken  of 
her  scheme  of  entering  a  milliner's  establishment  to  them ; 
and  'their  only  idea  was,  that  she  had  eloped  with  Henry, 
mere  boy  as  he  was — ignorant  as  a  girl  of  the  arts  of  the 
world — whose  weak  mind  she  had  misguided,  whose  young 
heart  she  had  captured  and  led  astray. 

Rena  was  inconsolable  at  the  thought  of  her  brother's 
duplicity.  She  would  not  have  grieved  so  much  at  Stella's 
flight,  if  she  had  fled  with  any  one  else ;  for,  much  as  she  had 
tried  to  love  her,  she  could  not  help  distrusting  and  condemn- 
ing her.  Aunt  Debby's  indignation  was  lofty,  but  Stella  was 
the  chief  object. 

"Poor,  silly,  weak  boy!"  she  cried;  "to  be  lured  by  a 
pair  of  pink  cheeks  and  blue  eyes,  and  a  golden  net !  It  is 
all  her  doings,  the  cunning,  artful,  specious  young  hussy ! 
Poor  baby  !  what  will  he  do  with  her  ? — take  her  to  college 
with  him  ?  It  is  the  most  astonishing,  ridiculous  thing  I  ever 
heard  of.  It  is  all  nonsense — it  is  worse  than  nonsense ;  I 
must  write  to  brother ;  he  must  see  about  the  matter." 

"  "Wait  a  little  while,  dear  aunt,"  said  Rena  j  "  she  may 
not  have  gone  with  him,  after  all.  She  is  such  a  strange  girl ! 
she  may  have  gone  to  some  of  the  families  where  she  has  lived. 
Let  us  send  and  inquire." 

Before  night,  a  countryman  called  who  had  just  returned 
from  the  city,  where  he  had  executed  some  commands  for 
Aunt  Debby.  Of  course  he  had  met  the  stage,  and  it  chanced 
that  it  stopped  to  change  horses  at  the  inn  where  he  was 
resting  his  own.  He  told  her,  in  answer  to  her  eager  inqui- 
ries about  the  passengers,  "  that  there  was  one  of  the  prettiest 
young  men  he  ever  saw  in  his  life,  and  the  prettiest  young  girl 


RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD.  221 

he  ever  did  see,  with  hair  like  dripping  dandelions  all  frisking 
about  her  face,  and  that  they  seemed  desperately  taken  with 
each  other." 

"  I  will  write  to  brother  this  moment !"  cried  Aunt  Debby. 
"  But  stop,  Rena,  pay  the  man  what  money  I  owe  him ;  you 
are  my  treasurer,  you  know." 

Rena  obeyed  her  aunt,  her  heart  for  the  first  time  swelling 
with  indignation  against  her  brother  for  thus  disappointing 
his  noble  father's  hopes.  As  she  put  the  key  in  the  drawer, 
she  spied  the  glove  on  the  floor,  and  picking  it  up,  read  his 
name  upon  it. 

"How  came  Henry's  glove  here?"  exclaimed  she;  "it  ia 
very,  very  strange  1" 

She  felt  faint  and  sick  at  the  sight  of  that  glove.  She 
could  not  account  for  her  awful  sensations ;  she  could  not  bear 
to  open  the  drawer,  the  key  trembled  in  her  hand.  Recol- 
lecting that  the  man  was  waiting  for  his  money,  and  that  it 
was  foolish  to  allow  such  a  trifle  to  affect  her  so,  she  unlocked 
the  drawer. 

"  Grone  1"  cried  she,  sinking  down  in  a  chair,  trembling  like 
the  mimosa  plant. 

"  Gone !"  she  repeated,  clenching  the  glove  in  agony.  "  He 
did  not  take  it !  No,  he  did  not  take  it — no,  no !"  she  kept 
saying;  for  it  seemed  to  her  there  were  jeering  voices  all 
round  the  room,  whispering  deridingly,  "  He  did,  he  did  :" 

As  Rena  stayed  so  long,  and  the  countryman  was  waiting, 
Aunt  Debby  grew  impatient,  and  came  up  to  see  what  was  the 
matter ;  for  Rena's  steps  were  usually  fleet  as  a  fawn's.  Sho 
found  her  in  a  chair  by  the  side  of  the  desk,  her  face  as  hue- 
less  as  marble,  and  such  a  look  of  anguish  in  her  eyes  as  she 
never  saw  before. 

"  Rena,  my  child,  what  ails  you  ?"  she  cried,  going  up  and 
laying  her  hand  quickly  on  her  shoulder. 

Rena  looked  wildly  at  her,  clenching  the  glove  to  her  Ireast ) 


222  RENA;  OB,  THE  SNOWBIRD. 

"He  did  not  take  it,"  she  exclaimed;  "Oh  no,  aunt  he 
never,  never  took  it !" 

Aunt  Debby  beheld  the  empty  drawer,  and  associating 
Rena's  frantic  asseveration  with  the  glove  she  convulsively 
grasped,  she  said,  in  a  tone  of  forced  calmness, 

"Give  me  that  glove,  Rena,  and  tell  me  where  you 
found  it." 

"  No,  no,"  cried  she,  pressing  it  closer,  and  trying  to  hide 
it  entirely  in  her  clasp.  "  Don't,  dear  aunt,  for  mercy's  sake, 
don't  take  it  from  me.  He  did  not  drop  it  there  himself." 

But  Aunt  Debby  did  take  it,  though,  in  the  act,  she  tore 
the  margin  from  the  other  part,  which  remained  in  the  fingers 
which  would  not  unclose.  She  read  the  name  distinctly 
printed  on  the  white  kid  inside.  She  looked  at  it  steadily, 
till  the  blood  left  her  face,  leaving  even  her  lips  colourless. 

"  It  is  not  the  money,"  she  said,  slowly,  "  but  the  dis- 
grace— the  shame — the  crime.  Henry  Fay,  my  brother's  son — 
my  nephew— your  brother,  a  thief !  a  vile  thief !  and  all  for 
that  girl — that  ungrateful,  artful  girl  1  Don't  speak  to  me, 
child — not  one  word!  I  must  think — I  must  think  what 
to  do." 

She  put  her  hand  to  her  forehead  and  knit  her  brows, 
labouring  in  thought. 

"  But  the  man  is  waiting  for  his  money,"  said  she  with  a 
sudden  transition  of  manner,  for  which  she  was  remarkable ; 
"  thank  heaven,  I  have  a  plenty  left." 

Then  opening  a  small  drawer  on  the  left  hand,  correspond- 
ing to  the  one  which  she  called  her  "  interest  drawer,"  she 
took  out  the  sum  required,  locked  it,  and  hung  the  key  round 
Rena's  neck.  Rena  caught  it  off  as  if  it  was  a  cord  of  fire. 

"  Take  it  back  !  why  did  you  ever  intrust  me  with  it  ?  If 
it  had  not  been  for  that,  it  never  would  have  been  taken." 

Aunt  Debby  had  already  left  the  room  to  discharge  her 
debt,  which  having  done,  she  sat  down  immediately  to  her 


RENA;   OR,   THE   SNOWBIRD. 

writing-desk.  Rena  found  her  bending  orer  the  paper,  her 
pen  making  rapid  and  decisive  movements.  She  went  up  and 
laid  her  hand  pleadingly  on  her  arm — 

"  Please  let  me  speak  one  word,  aunt.  You  are  writing  to 
father  !  Pray  do  not  tell  him  of  this  now — for,  as  I  believe 
in  the  God  that  made  me,  I  know  Henry  could  not  have  taken 
that  money." 

"  The  money  is  gone,  and  his  glove  lying  by  the  desk," 
said  Aunt  Debby,  coldly.  "  What  could  he  do  with  that  girl 
without  money?  He  had  only  enough  to  pay  his  college 
expenses.  I  remember  now  his  trepidation  and  blunders  in 
the  evening.  Guilt,  guilt — cowardice  and  shame  I  My  bro- 
ther must  know  it." 

Resuming  her  bending  position,  the  scratching  of  her  pen 
on  the  paper  was  like  the  stroke  of  a  knife  on  Rena's  heart. 
She  thought  of  the  agony  it  would  inflict  on  her  high-minded 
and  trusting  father.  She  remembered  the  death-bed  of  her 
mother,  when,  turning  her  dying  eyes  on  herself,  and  clasping 
her  hand  in  one  on  which  the  dew  of  dissolution  was  already 
gathered,  she  committed  her  brother  to  her  sisterly  tenderness 
and  care.  "  Oh,  Rena,"  murmured  the  expiring  woman, 
"  watch  over  him.  He  is  too  gentle,  too  yielding  to  take  care 
of  himself.  I  have  made  him  weak;  I  have  done  wrong. 
May  God  forgive  me,  and  save  my  darling  boy  from  evil !" 
Rena  remembered  all  this,  and  she  felt  that  she  had  thrown 
temptation  in  his  path,  in  the  form  of  the  beautiful  charity 
girl.  If  he  had  committed  this  shameful  deed,  it  was,  it  must 
have  been,  at  Stella's  instigation.  He  might  be  led  into  sin 
through  the  weakness  his  mother  deplored.  He  could  not 
think  evil  from  his  own  untempted  nature. 

She  could  not  stand  by  and  see  her  aunt  writing  the  history 
of  his  infamy  without  a  struggle.  Her  only  thought  was  to 
save  her  father  from  sorrow,  her  brother  from  shame.  She 
.threw  herself  on  her  knees  before  her  aunt;  she  arrested  the 


EENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD. 

hand  that  guided  the  pen,  and  entreating  her  to  spare  him, 
wept  and  sobbed  in  passionate  grief.  Aunt  Debby  laid  down 
her  pen,  and  putting  her  arms  tenderly  round  the  weeping 
girl,  addressed  her  in  solemn,  soothing  accents  : 

"  Do  you  think  I  do  not  suffer,  child  ?  Do  you  think  my 
nature  is  impassive  ?  I  am  not  going  to  expose  Henry  to  the 
world.  Far  be  from  me  such  a  thought.  Regard  for  the 
family  honour,  if  not  for  him,  would  prevent  me.  But  I 
must  do  my  duty.  His  father  must  know  his  conduct,  must 
follow  him  and  save  him  from  himself.  I  pity  the  poor,  de- 
luded boy !  pity  him  more  than  I  condemn.  He  was  exposed 
to  the  wiles  of  a  serpent,  subtle  as  the  one  that  tempted  the 
mother  of  mankind.  Do  you  want  him  to  remain  in  her 
coils?" 

"  Oh,  no,  I  see  you  are  right,  aunt.  You  will  not  expose 
him  to  the  world — that  is  kind — Sherwood  will  never  know  it 
then  I"  burst  from  her  lips. 

"  I  would  not  have  the  Hon.  Herbert  Lindsey  know  that 
one  of  the  name  of  Fay  had  disgraced  himself  in  this  man- 
ner," exclaimed  Aunt  Debby,  with  one  of  her  old  flashes  of 
passion;  "I  would  not,  for  all  the  kingdoms  of  earth  and 
the  glory  of  them.  Be  assured  this  stigma  shall  not  be 
known  beyond  the  family,  unless,"  she  added,  "you  excite 
suspicion  by  your  stormy  emotions." 

"  I  will  be  calm,  aunt,"  she  replied,  "  I  will  not  shed  an- 
other tear." 

"  Go  and  wash  your  face,  comb  your  hair,  and  take  a  walk. 
Dismiss  the  subject.  We  had  better  not  speak  of  it  again  at 
present.  Learn  self-control,  my  child ;  it  is  one  of  the  first 
lessons  we  need — the  last  we  learn.  Poor  pupils  that  we  are  I 
How  little  we  profit  by  the  discipline  of  suffering !" 

Eena  obeyed  her  aunt,  and  suppressed  as  far  as  possible  all 
outward  demonstrations  of  sorrow;  but  her  happiness  had 
received  a  terrible  blow,  one  for  which  there  was  no  remedy. 


RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD.  225 

She  waited  with  feverish  impatience  to  hear  from  her  father, 
but  it  would  be  some  time  before  they  could  look  for  an  answer 
to  Aunt  Debby's  letter,  as  he  would  doubtless  start  immedi- 
ately after  his  son,  and  not  write  till  he  could  tell  the  result 
of  the  interview.  Slowly  and  heavily  the  days  dragged  after 
each  other.  One  of  those  cold,  dismal  north-east  storms  set 
in,  that  often  sweep  over  the  northern,  Atlantic  coasts,  and 
penetrate  the  very  marrow  of  the  bones.  We  have  described 
some  of  the  pleasures,  the  exhilarations,  the  glories  of  a  hyper- 
borean winter.  We  have  given  the  lights,  but  truth  requires 
us  to  introduce  the  shadows  also.  The  snow-storm  on  Thanks- 
giving eve,  it  is  true,  might  pass  for  one,  but  that  was  an  April 
gust,  compared  to  this  long,  bleak,  chilling  north-easter.  The 
sleet  drove  against  the  windows  and  shook  the  panes,  leaving 
behind  a  dull  crust,  impeding  the  passage  of  the  dim  rays 
that  struggled  for  admittance.  It  mixed  with  the  dark  red 
pine  bark,  with  which  the  house  was  embanked,  and  left  a 
dismal-looking  discolouration  on  the  grayish  paint.  It  beat 
against  the  listed  doors,  and  came  headlong  down  the  chim- 
neys of  the  unoccupied  rooms.  The  snow  no  longer  wore  its 
tint  of  unsullied  whiteness,  but  assumed  a  dingy  hue,  and 
little,  ragged-looking  twigs  broken  off  from  the  naked  branch- 
es, as  the  wind  rattled  through  them,  gave  it  a  slovenly,  deso- 
late aspect.  Sometimes  a  poor  little  snowbird  would  peck  at 
the  window,  and  Rena  would  take  it  in,  and  nestle  it  on  her 
bosom,  only  to  sigh  over  its  last,  expiring  pang.  If  there 
had  been  peace  within,  Rena  could  have  triumphed  over  the 
desolation  abroad — she  could  have  wandered  in  fairy  land  and 
found  green  bowers,  and  sweet  blossoms  enough  of  her  own, 
to  make  her  independent  of  all  of  which  winter  had  robbed 
her.  But  within,  as  without,  was  gloom.  Rena  saw  that  her 
aunt  suffered,  and  she  endeavoured  heroically  to  rise  above 
her  own  depression,  that  she  might  cheer  and  interest  her. 
She  knit  strenuously,  an  occupation  whose  monotony  was 


226  RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD. 

always  distasteful  to  her ;  assisted  her  in  quilting  a  large  star 
bed-quilt,  another  task  she  especially  disliked;  read  to  her, 
sung  for  her; 

"  But  nothing  could  a  charm  impart" 

to  soothe  her  own  restless  and  wounded  spirit.  At  length, 
the  gilded  top  of  the  arrow  that  surmounted  the  stable  veered 
towards  the  west,  and  the  clouds  went  drifting  after  it.  The 
Bun  burst  forth  gloriously,  and  the  sleet  that  covered  the 
undulating  surface  of  the  snow,  shone  like  billows  of  glass. 
With  an  exultant  feeling  of  liberation,  a  sense  of  renewed 
joy  in  existence,  Rena  bounded  into  the  sunshine,  and  forget- 
ting for  awhile  every  source  of  sorrow,  told  Aunt  Debby  that 
she  felt  "  as  if  she  could  skate  all  over  the  world !" 

It  was  not  many  days  before  a  letter  arrived  from  Colonel 
Fay.  While  the  aunt  and  niece  are  absorbed  by  its  contents, 
we  will  relate  the  incidents  it  records. 


CHAPTER  XT. 

"  Beautiful  tyrant !  fiend  angelical — 
Dove-feathered  raven :  wolf-devouring  lamb  I 
Oh !  serpent  heart  hid  in  a  flowering  cave ! 
Did  e'er  deceit  dwell  in  so  fair  a  mansion  ?" 

ROMEO  AMD  JULIET. 

"  For  thee,  rash  girl !  no  suppliant  sues—- 
For thee  may  vengeance  claim  her  dues, 
Who,  nurtured  underneath  our  smiles, 

•  Hast  paid  our  care  with  treacherous  wiles." 

LADY  OF  THE  LAKE. 

WE  will  not  attempt  to  describe  the  feelings  of  Colonel 
Fay,  on  the  reception  of  his  sister's  letter.  It  arrived 
about  the  commencement  of  the  storm,  whose  blasts  swept  all 


RENA;  OB,  THE  SNOWBIRD.  227 

along  the  north-eastern  shores  of  the  Atlantic.  He  felt  for 
the  first  time  the  influence  of  those  blasts  on  his  athletic 
frame.  The  cold  water  with  which  he  was  saturated  Thanks- 
giving eve,  seemed  still  lingering  in  the  pores  of  his  system, 
producing  occasional  dullness  and  pain.  But  he  had  scarcely 
perused  the  letter,  before  he  ordered  his  sleigh,  and  resisting 
all  the  pleadings  of  his  wife  to  wait  for  the  subsiding  of  the 
storm,  commenced  his  melancholy  journey.  He  felt  not  the 
benumbing  wind,  the  driving  sleet;  all  physical  suffering 
was  forgotten  in  the  anguish  of  the  mind. 

It  was  a  day's  journey ;  but,  as  he  started  in  the  after  part 
of  the  day,  he  was  obliged  to  travel  during  the  night,  and 
arrived  at  his  son's  lodgings  in  the  morning.  Henry  was 
alone  in  his  room,  poring  over  the  pages  of  a  Grceca  Major  a 
with  his  eyes,  while  his  thoughts  were  wandering  to  a  form 
of  bewildering  loveliness,  when  the  door  opened  and  his  father 
stood  before  him,  pale,  sorrowful,  and  stern.  He  started  up, 
his  face  crimsoned  with  shame.  He  knew  of  but  one  offence, 
and  the  bashful  boy  trembled  and  blushed,  fearing  that  his 
father  had  discovered  the  secret  of  his  heart,  and  had  proba- 
bly come  to  upbraid  him  for  his  folly. 

"  Where  is  the  young  girl  you  have  taken  from  her  friends  ?" 
said  his  father,  in  his  usual  straightforward,  downright  man- 
ner. But  this  manner,  generally  softened  by  tenderness  when 
addressing  any  member  of  his  family,  was  now  severe  and 
cold.  The  double  offence  of  which  he  supposed  his  son  guilty, 
was  enough  to  excite  parental  indignation.  Still,  he  wished 
to  draw  him  gradually  to  a  full  confession;  and  had  he  been 
aware  of  the  sternness  of  his  countenance,  he  would  have 
endeavoured  to  mitigate  it.' 

"  I  left  her  at  an  hotel  in  the  city,  before  I  came  out  here," 
answered  Henry,  with  a  stammering  tongue. 

"  And  how  came  you  to  take  this  disgraceful  and  unwarrant- 
able step,  young  man — beai  iless  boy,  as  I  should  say  ?  How 


228  REN  A;   OB,   THE   SNOWBIRD. 

came  you  to  decoy  a  young  girl  from  my  sister's  protection, 
and  throw  her  into  the  heart  of  a  corrupt  city  ?  I  did  not 
think  a  son  of  mine  would  be  guilty  of  an  act  like  this." 

"I  am  very,  very  sorry,"  again  stammered  Henry;  "I 
feared  you  would  be  angry ;  but  I  did  not  decoy  her,  father — 
ehe  asked  me  to  take  charge  of  her,  and  I  could  not  well 
refuse.  She  did  not  wish  her  friends  to  know  of  her  going, 
for  they  would  have  opposed  it.  She  is  going  into  a  milliner's 
shop." 

There  was  such  an  ingenuous  expression  in  Henry's  face 
as  he  uttered  these  simple  truths,  notwithstanding  his  burn- 
ing blushes  at  the  consciousness  of  the  rapture  he  felt  under 
the  guardianship  imposed,  that  Colonel  Fay  could  not  but 
place  implicit  reliance  on  his  statement.  One  great  burden 
was  removed,  but  the  robbery — the  mystery  of  the  glove  !  He 
approached  the  subject  with  fear  and  caution.  After  rebuking 
his  son  for  committing  a  clandestine  act,  which  had  caused  his 
friends  so  much  anxiety,  and  exposed  him  to  censure  and 
obloquy — after  blaming  the  rash  and  imprudent  girl  who  had 
led  him  into  the  temptation,  he  asked — 

"  Henry,  do  you  remember  losing  a  pair  of  gloves  the  even- 
ing you  left  Sunny  Dell  ?" 

"  I  did  not  exactly  lose  them,"  answered  he,  with  renewed 
embarrassment. 

"  What  became  of  them,  then  ?  Be  candid, — a  great  deal 
may  depend  on  your  confession." 

"  They  were  taken  from  my  hat  in  the  course  of  the  even- 
ing,— but  it  was  only  in  sport,  father." 

"  By  whom  ? — tell  me  all  the  circumstances  without  prevari- 
cation !" 

"  Stella  took  them  in  play,  just  to  tease  me." 

"  Did  you  see  her  take  them  ? — did  she  do  it  before  your 
face  ?" 

"I  cannot  conceive  what  importance  you  attach  to  a  com- 


RENAJ   OR,   THE  SNOWBIRD.  229 

mon  pair  of  gloves.  She  will  return  them,  if  I  ask  her.  She 
did  it  in  stealth,  but  I  saw  her  in  the  glass,  the  opposite  side 
of  the  room.  I  am  sure  I  do  not  see  any  harm  in  it, — an 
innocent  trick,  such  as  Rena  would  play.  Please  don't  be 
angry  with  her  for  such  a  trifle  as  that." 

"  It  may  be  a  trifle  in  itself,  but  great  consequences  are 
involved  in  it  I"  said  the  Colonel,  deliberately  fixing  his  clear, 
penetrating  eye  on  the  gloomy  face  of  his  son.  "  One  of 
those  gloves  was  found,  the  day  after  you  left,  lying  right  in 
front  of  your  aunt's  desk,  from  which  some  daring  hand  had 
taken  all  the  money  confided  the  night  before  to  your  sister's 
care  !  That  trifle,  as  you  call  it,  fixes  the  crime  on  you ! 
Tell  me,  as  you  will  abide  by  the  consequences,  before  the 
judgment  bar  of  G-od, — tell  me,  while  you  look  me,  your 
father,  steadfastly  in  the  eye,  are  you  guilty,  Henry,  or  not  ?" 

"  What,  // — /  rob  my  aunt  ? — /  steal,  and  from  my  own 
aunt  f  Oh !  father,  how  can  you  believe  me  guilty  of  such 
an  awful  crime  ?" 

All  the  time  that  he  was  speaking,  his  earnest,  beautiful 
dark  eyes  were  fixed  upon  his  father,  with  the  security  of 
conscious  innocence.  Then  the  tears  gathered  slowly,  in  large 
drops,  and  began  to  roll  down  his  cheeks.  His  knees  knocked 
together,  and  sinking  in  a  chair,  he  covered  his  face  with  his 
hands  and  sobbed  convulsively. 

"  And  does  my  aunt,"  cried  he,  "  and  does  Rena  believe  me 
guilty  ?  Do  they  think  I  could  be  so  base,  so  wicked  ? 
Father — you  do  not  speak  !  You  cannot  think  your  son,  my 
mother's  son,  could  curse  you  by  such  an  act  ?" 

"  No,  Henry,  I  cannot,  I  could  not,  though  the  evidence,  the 
circumstantial  evidence  is  strong  enough  to  convict  you  in  a 
court  of  justice.  It  is  evident  who  is  the  criminal — the  un- 
principled girl,  who  lured  you  into  an  act  of  imprudence,  and 
who  artfully  stole  your  gloves,  to  fasten  this  guilt  on  you.  ' 

"  Oh,  no,  father,  she  is  innocent — I  know  she  is  I" 


230  RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD. 

"  How  came  your  glove  there,  then  ?" 

"  It  was  dropped  there  by  accident,  indeed  it  was.  I  would 
suspect  an  angel  of  such  a  thing,  as  soon  as  Stella." 

"  Then  it  was  your  sister." 

"  Father." 

"  Henry,  I  say  it  was  either  yourself,  that  girl,  or  your  own 
sister.  The  money  is  gone.  It  was  placed  under  your  sister's 
care.  Your  glove  was  found  near  the  empty  drawer.  Your 
gloves  were  abducted  by  the  girl  the  same  evening.  Now, 
assume  the  guilt  yourself,  fasten  it  on  your  sister,  or  let  it 
rest  on  her,  who  is,  I  firmly  believe,  the  true  criminal." 

"  Some  robber  must  have  broken  in  the  house,"  gasped 
Henry,  appalled  by  the  shadows  that  were  darkening  round  him. 

"Give  me  the  direction  of  the  girl,"  said  the  Colonel; 
"  she  must  be  examined." 

"  Oh  !  father,  have  mercy !  It  will  kill  her,  if  you  accuse 
her  of  such  a  crime.  If  I  could  lie  in  the  face  of  my  Maker, 
I  would  say  I  took  it,  rather  than  you  should  suspect  lier  of 
such  a  thing." 

"  Is  she  dearer  to  you  than  your  own  honour,  or  the  honour 
of  your  family  ?" 

"  I  should  die  if  she  suffered  wrong  at  my  father's  hands," 
he  answered,  in  a  tone  of  indescribable  anguish. 

"  Have  you  ever  known  me  cruel  or  unjust,  my  son  ?"  said 
the  Colonel,  overcome  with  pity  for  his  unhappy  son. 

"Never,  sir,  forgive  me;  but  I  hardly  know  what  I  am 
Baying." 

"  Write  her  direction  on  this  slip  of  paper,"  said  he,  placing 
one  before  his  son,  "  and  be  assured  that  I  will  proceed  in  this 
matter  with  as  much  delicacy  and  forbearance  as  it  is  possible 
to  use.  I  shall  rejoice  as  much  as  yourself  to  prove  her  inno- 
cence Henry,  do  not  make  any  unnecessary  delay.  It  was 
for  no  child's  play  that  I  confronted  a  blast  like  this." 

Henry  traced  the  lines  with  fingers,  that  were  not  conscious 
of  their  own  motion. 


RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD.  231 

"  Be  gentle  with  her,  my  father.  Be  gentle,  for  my  sake  I" 
said  he,  grasping  his  father's  hand,  and  pressing  upon  it  his 
feverish  brow. 

"  I  will,  my  son,  I  will.  Now  resume  your  studies,  and  be 
ready  for  the  recitation  hour.  And  remember,  if  I  should 
return  with  convincing  proofs  of  her  guilt,  I  shall  expect  from 
the  purity  of  your  heart,  and  the  past  uprightness  of  your 
character,  a  full  surrender  of  all  interest  in  one  so  utterly  un- 
worthy." 

Henry's  only  answer  was  another  pressure  of  his  father's 
hand,  but  he  was  strong  in  his  conviction  of  Stella's  inno- 
cence. His  anguish  was  for  the  outrage  that  was  to  be  inflicted 
upon  it. 

When  Colonel  Fay  inquired  at  the  hotel  for  the  young  girl 
Stella  Lightner,  and  was  told  no  person  of  that  name  was  there, 
he  began  to  tremble  for  his  son's  truth.  But  at  length  he 
learned  from  a  head  servant  that  the  person  who  bore  that 
name  had  been  there,  but  was  now  with  a  fashionable  milliner 
by  the  name  of  Modely.  The  Colonel  took  down  the  new 
direction,  and  after  winding  about  various  streets,  he  found  the 
shop  of  the  milliner.  He  entered,  but  looked  in  vain  behind 
the  counter,  for  the  beautiful  face  of  the  charity  girl.  There 
was  a  glass  door  that  divided  the  shop  from  a  back  parlour, 
partly  shaded  by  a  green  silk  curtain.  Through  this,  he  caught 
a  glimpse  of  a  profusion  of  sunny  curls,  and  a  profile  of  pure, 
classic  beauty,  which  could  belong  to  no  other  face  than  Stella's. 
She  turned  her  eyes  towards  the  door,  those  star-bright  eyes, 
and  immediately  recognised,  with  a  thrill  of  horror,  the  tall, 
commanding  figure  of  Colonel  Fay.  The  needle  dropped  from 
her  hand — the  work  fell  from  her  lapj  then  starting,  she 
gathered  it  up  and  retreated  to  the  remotest  corner  of  the 
apartment,  hoping  she  had  escaped  the  observation  she  so  much 
dreaded. 

In  the  mean  time  the  Colonel  addressed  the  lady  who 
49 


232  RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD. 

seemed  to  preside  in  the  shop,  and  requested  an  interview  with 
the  young  girl — a  private  interview  if  possible. 

"  Do  you  know  her,  sir  ?"  asked  the  lady,  drawing  him  one 
side,  so  that  her  remarks  could  not  be  heard  by  the  apprentice 
girls  behind  the  counter. 

"  I  have  known  her  from  a  child,"  was  the  reply. 

"  She  has  been  with  me  but  a  short  time,"  she  continued, 
"  and  as  she  came  without  any  recommendations,  I  have  been 
in  doubt  about  the  propriety  of  taking  her.  Her  youth  and 
remarkable  beauty  interested  me,  and  the  skill  she  manifested 
in  needle-work  when  put  upon  trial,  showed  that  she  would  be 
a  valuable  acquisition  to  my  establishment." 

The  lady,  who  seemed  gratified  that  so  gentleman-like  a 
person  as  the  Colonel  was  acquainted  with  her  young  protegee, 
called  Stella,  who  came  forward  with  ill-concealed  reluctance, 
and  leading  the  way  to  a  private  parlour,  showily  and  fashion- 
ably furnished,  left  them  together. 

"  You  have  taken  a  very  extraordinary  step,  young  lady," 
said  the  Colonel,  in  a  grave  voice.  "  It  was  rash  and  unad- 
vised." 

Stella  breathed  more  freely,  believing  that  it  was  to  censure 
her  for  making  his  son  a  partner  in  her  flight,  that  he  had 
honoured  her  with  a  visit.  For  that  venial  offence  she  was 
ready  to  justify  herself,  secure  that  the  darker  secret  of  her 
crime  was  unrevealed. 

"  I  have  found  a  respectable  home,"  she  replied,  "  where  I 
shall  not  be  taunted  with  my  poverty,  and  the  situation  from 
which  I  was  taken.  They  will  not  know  and  despise  me  as  a 
low  charity  girl,  unless  you  tell  them,  sir,  who  I  am,  and  rob 
me  of  the  patronage  I  have  obtained." 

Colonel  Fay  felt  the  peculiarity  and  delicacy  of  his  situation 
painfully.  He  was  a  man  of  unusual  tenderness  and  gentle- 
ness of  character  in  his  intercourse  with  women ;  and  here  was 
a  young  girl  of  angelic  beauty  and  heavenly  innocence  of  ap- 


RENA;  OB,  THE  SNOWBIRD.  233 

pearance,  whom  he  was  come  to  accuse  of  one  of  the  most 
degrading  of  crimes.  Had  it  been  murder,  committed  by  the 
frantic  hand  of  passion,  it  would  have  been  less  opprobrious 
and  revolting.  When  with  his  son,  and  he  had  convinced 
himself  of  her  guilt,  he  had  armed  himself  with  sufficient 
indignation  to  convict  her  face  to  face  of  the  sinful  deed  she 
had  done ;  but  when  he  looked  upon  her  his  purpose  faltered. 
With  Henry  he  believed  it  was  impossible.  Deliberate  wick- 
edness never  could  clothe  itself  in  a  garb  so  fair.  He  walked 
about  the  room  irresolute  and  troubled.  He  knew  not  what 
to  do.  If  he  told  her  of  the  loss  of  the  money,  and  asked 
her  to  allow  her  trunk  to  be  examined,  to  vindicate  her  inno- 
cence, she  might  leave  the  room  to  hide  the  bills  before  ho 
had  an  opportunity  of  searching  it.  It  would  put  her  on  her 
guard,  and  effectually  baffle  his  attempts  to  fathom  the  mys- 
tery Were  it  merely  the  money  that  was  in  question,  he 
would  far  rather  have  paid  its  value  from  his  own  purse,  than 
mention  his  suspicions ;  but  his  son's  character  was  at  stake, 
and  it  must  be  cleared.  He  had  only  his  own  wordr**^, 
against  the  most  powerful  evidence.  If  innocent,  he  mnjt  be 
acquitted;  if  guilty,  condemned. 

While  revolving  these  weighty  thoughts,  Stella  watched  him 
with  the  most  intense  anxiety.  She  could  not  bear  the  into- 
lerable suspense  caused  by  his  silence  and  troubled  movements. 
She  rose,  saying  she  thought  Mrs.  Modely  would  be  displeased 
if  she  remained  longer  from  her  work,  and  was  leaving  the 
room,  when,  having  recalled  a  portion  of  his  moral  courage, 
he  went  up  to  her,  and  taking  her  hand  said — 

"We  may  be  intruded  on  in  this  parlour.  Take  me  to 
your  own  private  room.  I  have  that  to  say  to  you  which  no 
ears  but  your  own  ought  to  hear." 

"  I  have  no  room  of  my  own,"  she  cried,  her  whole  face 
suffused  with  the  deepest  crimson.  "  I  share  the  chamber  of 
anotbe"  girl.  I  am  sure  this  parlour  is  retired  enov\gh,"  added 


234  RENAj   OR,   THE   SNOWBIRD. 

she,  assuming  a  haughty  air.  "  No  gentleman  would  insist 
upon  greater  privacy." 

"  Stella,  you  must  take  me  to  your  own  room,  or  I  must 
speak  to  Mrs.  Modely  on  the  subject  that  brought  me  here. 
If  you  wish,  she  can  be  present ;  but  for  your  own  sake,  I  would 
advise  not." 

"I  will  not  go  with  you,  sir.  You  have  no  right  to  ask  it. 
You  can  have  nothing  to  say  to  me  that  the  whole  world  may 
not  hear.  Let  go  my  hand,  sir,  you  hurt  me." 

It  is  probable  that  the  strong  hand  of  the  Colonel  did  hurt 
the  slender  fingers  he  grasped  so  tightly,  but  he  was  excited 
by  her  resistance,  and  the  difficulty  of  the  undertaking  called 
forth  a  more  determined  and  vigorous  will. 

"  Stella,"  said  he,  without  releasing  her,  "  I  would  not  be 
harsh  or  unkind,  unless  you  force  me  to  be  so.  If  you  value 
your  present  situation,  come  with  me,  and  I  will  treat  you  as 
gently  as  if  you  were  my  own  daughter.  My  age  sanctions 
the  liberty  I  ask." 

Trembling,  panting  with  suppressed  rage  and  fear,  Stella 
looked  round  as  if  she  would  jump  through  the  windows,  rather 
than  yield  submission  to  his  requirement.  He  had  gradually 
drawn  her  to  the  door  of  the  shop,  where  Mrs.  Modely  met 
them,  her  countenance  animated  with  curiosity. 

"  Excuse  me,  madam,"  said  he,  "  if  I  appear  to  ask  an 
unusual  liberty.  I  wish  to  speak  with  this  young  girl  in  her 
own  room.  As  I  have  just  told  her,  my  age  sanctions  the 
freedom,  as  well  as  my  motive.  Will  you  permit  her  to  show 
me  the  way  ?" 

"  It  is  a  strange  request,"  replied  Mrs.  Modely,  looking  with 
doubt  and  astonishment  at  Stella,  who  was  scarlet  one  moment, 
and  snow-white  the  next ;  "  she  seems  very  much  agitated,  I 
know  not  what  to  think  of  it." 

"  She  has  some  important  papers  in  her  trunk  which  I  wish 
to  examine,  which  it  is  necessary  that  I  should.  If  you  will 


RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD.  235 

have  the  goodness  to  have  it  brought  into  the  parlour,  and  see 
that  we  are  uninterrupted  for  a  short  time,  I  should  prefer  it." 

"  Certainly,  certainly,"  replied  the  lady,  "  that  is  a  much 
better  arrangement."  She  resolved  that  she  would  apply  her 
ear  to  the  key-hole,  and  learn  the  mystery  of  a  visit,  evidently 
so  unwelcome  to  Stella. 

Stella  dared  not  resist,  before  the  curious  eyes  bent  upon  her 
in  the  shop,  but  when  she  found  herself  again  in  the  parlour,  she 
burst  into  a  passion  of  tears,  and  declared  that  he  never  should 
look  in  her  trunk ;  she  would  not  submit  to  such  an  insult,  she 
would  die  first.  The  trunk  was  brought  in — the  door  closed, 
a  listening  ear  applied  to  the  key-hole.  The  Colonel,  whose 
courage  was  now  equal  to  the  occasion,  took  both  her  hands 
and  forcibly  seated  her. 

" Stella,"  he  cried,  "be  calm,  and  listen  to  reason.  I  will 
now  tell  you  what  I  wish  to  discover.  A  robbery  was  com- 
mitted at  Sunny  Dell,  on  the  night  of  your  departure.  The 
clandestine  manner  in  which  you  left,  has  thrown  suspicion  on 
you.  My  sister  has  authorized  me  to  investigate  the  matter. 
If  you  are  innocent,  an  examination  of  your  trunk  ought  to 
inspire  no  dread.  I  suffer  great  pain  in  wounding  your  feel- 
ings. I  would  gladly  have  spared  you  this  trial,  if  I  could." 

"  Cruel,  cruel  and  unjust !"  cried  Stella,  wringing  her  hands, 
and  looking  distractedly  round  her,  "  why  should  I  do  it  more 
than  your  own  son  ?  why  accuse  me  more  than  him  ?" 

"I  have  accused  him,  and  he  denies  it.  I  sought  him  first. 
I  did  not  spare  my  own  son." 

"  Does  he  dare  to  say  that  I  took  it  ?  Has  he  the  cowardice 
to  accuse  me — a  girl  ?"  she  cried,  with  a  look  of  insufferable 
scorn. 

"No,  he  stakes  his  life  upon  your  innocence,  and  I,  Stelld, 
would  give  twenty  times  this  sum  to  prove  you  so,  this  moment 
Give  me  the  key,  and  clear  yourself  at  once  of  suspicion," 

"  Never— I  will  die  first !" 


236  RENAJ    OR,   THE   SNOWBIRD. 

"  Then  I  must  force  it  open,"  laying  his  powerful  hand 
upon  the  lid. 

Stella  sprang  forward  and  threw  herself  across  the  trunk, 
desperately,  fiercely.  All  the  animal  in  her  was  roused. 
With  her  long,  waving  hair  floating  wildly  over  her,  her  head 
partly  raised,  her  eyes  flashing  like  poniards,  and  her  lips 
parted,  showing  her  glittering  teeth,  she  looked  like  a  young 
lioness,  confronted  in  her  native  wilderness.  The  Colonel 
was  baffled.  He  could  have  faced  the  lions  of  the  Indian 
forests  with  a  more  undaunted  spirit  than  this  slender  girl. 
Of  her  guilt  he  had  no  longer  a  doubt.  To  obtain  the  proofs 
of  it,  so  as  to  clear  his  son,  seemed  an  Herculean  task. 

"  Stella,  unhappy  girl,"  said  he,  "  I  know  your  guilt !  do  not 
seek  to  hide  it.  There  was  one  who  saw  the  deed,  whom  you 
cannot  escape,  whose  justice  you  cannot  elude." 

"  Who  saw  me  ?"  she  exclaimed,  springing  up  with  a 
bound ;  "  who  saw  me  ?  there  was  no  one  there.  It  is  false, 
there  was  no  one  there." 

"  Yes  !  self-convicted  criminal,"  said  he,  in  a  solemn  voice, 
raising  his  hand  slowly  upward,  and  pointing  towards  Heaven, 
"  God  was  there — he  saw  you.  God  is  here — his  awful  eye 
is  on  you  now.  He  sees  into  the  depths  of  your  heart.  He 
sees  its  fear,  its  agony,  and,  oh  !  may  he  see  its  remorse  I 
Confess  now,  child  of  sin — confess  your  crime,  restore  the 
money,  and  I  will  not  expose  your  shame.  I  will  not  blast 
your  young  life  by  telling  the  story  of  your  infamy.  Let  the 
anguish  you  now  suffer  be  a  foretaste  of  those  undying  pangs 
which  await  the  impenitent  and  unpardoned  sinner.  Make 
the  only  atonement  left,  by  restoring  what,  if  kept,  will  burn 
your  conscience  with  consuming  fire." 

The  solemnity  of  his  manner,  the  awful  force  of  his  lan- 
guage, the  imposing  dignity  of  his  attitude,  the  consciousness 
that  her  own  words  had  admitted  the  crime,  the  conviction 
that  she  was  entirely  in  his  power,  and  that  a  call  for  help 


RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD.  237 

would  only  expose  her  shame  to  others,  all  pressed  upon  her 
so  crushingly  she  had  no  strength  or  resistance  left.  When 
Colonel  Fay  bent  down  and  took  the  black  silk  ribbon,  from 
which  a  key  was  suspended,  from  her  neck,  her  nerveless 
hands  fell  passive  at  her  side ;  she  bowed  forward  and  fell 
prostrate  on  the  floor,  like  one  in  a  collapsed  state.  She  had 
not  fainted,  she  had  only  given  up  in  despair.  She  heard  the 
key  turn,  the  trunk  open,  she  felt  that  the  bills  were  in  the 
Colonel's  hand,  though  her  face  was  pressed  against  the  floor. 
She  heard  the  key  again  turn,  the  trunk  closed,  and  felt  the 
ribbon  encircle  her  neck. 

Colonel  Fay  was  now  in  possession  of  indubitable  evidence 
of  her  guilt.  His  sister,  who  was  remarkable  for  the  method- 
ical manner  in  which  she  transacted  business,  always  had  the 
initials  D.  W.  marked  on  the  back  of  her  bank  notes  in  red 
ink.  Her  agent  never  failed  to  attend  to  this  sign,  before 
placing  them  in  her  hands.  Every  note  bore  this  blood-red 
symbol.  And  near  them,  too,  was  the  fellow  of  the  glove  found 
in  front  of  the  desk — at  least  he  supposed  so,  for  there  was  an 
odd  glove,  bearing  the  name  of  his  son.  The  stigma  was 
removed  from  his  family,  but  the  guilt  of  this  youthful  orphan 
weighed  heavily  on  his  heart.  She  had  been  under  his  roof, 
and  sat  down  at  his  board ;  she  had  been  the  companion  of 
his  children,  the  protegee  of  his  sister. 

"  I  will  not  add  to  your  sufferings  by  useless  reproaches," 
said  he,  trying  to  raise  her  prostrate  form.  "  You  see  that 
the  path  of  sin  is  strewed  with  thorns,  that  the  way  of  the 
transgressor  is  hard.  I  will  not  leave  you  penniless,  nor  will 
I  reveal  to  the  lady,  whose  protection  you  have  sought,  this 
shameful  transaction.  Perhaps  I  ought  to  put  her  on  her 
guard,  but  I  cannot  close  upon  you  the  doors  of  hope,  for 
there  is  hope,  Stella — hope  in  repentance,  reformation,  and 
expiation." 

"  I  thank  you,  sir,  for  your  good  advice  to  the  young  lady 


RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD. 

and  I  hope  she  will  profit  by  it,"  cried  Mrs.  Modely,  suddenly 
opening  the  door ;  "  but  she  is  not  to  be  left  under  my  roof,  I 
can  assure  you.  I  overheard  enough  just  now,  as  I  was  com- 
ing in,  to  know  what  she  is,  and  I  am  not  going  to  harbour 
a  thief,  to  destroy  the  reputation  of  my  establishment.  I 
thought  it  was  strange  that  she  had  no  recommendations.  I 
suppose  she  thought  her  pretty  face  was  sufficient.  To  try  to 
deceive  me,  in  this  shameless  manner.  I  tell  you  what,  Miss, 
the  sooner  you  leave  my  house  the  better." 

"  Take  me  to  prison,  sir,"  said  Stella,  in  a  tone  of  bitter- 
ness and  despair ,  "  I  have  no  home  to  go  to  1" 

"  Come  with  me,  poor  outcast,"  said  the  Colonel,  "  1  will 
carry  you  back  to  the  friends  you  have  deserted,  and  who  are 
still  ignorant  of  your  crime." 

"  No,  oh,  no,  not  to  Aunt  Debby — I  dare  not — I  cannot — 
I  would  rather  die  at  once  !" 

"  You  have  but  one  choice  left — either  to  go  into  the 
streets  in  the  wind  and  sleet,  or  to  accept  the  protection  I  am 
willing  to  afford  you." 

He  spoke  calmly,  resolutely,  and  the  wretched  girl  seeing 
indeed  no  alternative,  went  to  her  room  to  prepare  herself  for 
the  journey. 

"  Excuse  me,  sir,"  said  Mrs.  Modely ;  "  I  must  follow  her 
and  see  that  she  does  not  steal  anything  from  me." 

"  Speak  not,  I  entreat  you,  of  this  unhappy  affair,  madam. 
Have  pity  on  her  youth." 

"  Certainly,  sir,"  said  she,  hurrying  away,  to  watch  the 
detected  culprit. 

In  silence  and  shame  Stella  followed  her  merciful  judge  to 
the  sleigh,  where  her  trunk  was  already  deposited,  while  the 
apprentice  girls,  whose  envy  her  beauty  had  excited,  looked 
after  her  with  scorn  and  contempt. 

The  Colonel  stopped  at  the  hotel  long  enough  to  write  a 
note  to  his  son,  informing  him  of  the  discovery  he  had  made, 
and  his  conviction  that  his  infatuation  could  not  survive  the 


RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD.  239 

knowledge  of  Stella's  worthlessness.  He  also  wwte  to  his 
Bister,  telling  her  of  what  he  had  done,  and  of  his  wish  that 
she  would  make  some  arrangement  with  the  ladies  of  the  cha- 
ritable association,  to  receive  Stella,  of  whose  crime  they  were 
not  aware,  and  who  might  be  forgiven  for  the  youthful  impru- 
dence of  taking  a  flight  to  the  city,  under  apparently  favour- 
able auspices. 

The  journey  was  cold  and  comfortless.  Stella  listened  in 
sullen  silence  to  the  kind  and  earnest  counsels  of  this  excel- 
lent man.  If  anything  could  have  redeemed  her,  it  would 
have  been  an  influence  so  pure  and  holy,  acting  upon  her, 
from  the  highest,  most  disinterested  of  motives.  And  while 
with  him,  while  his  mild,  persuasive  accents  were  murmuring 
in  her  ears,  she  did  resolve  to  abstain  from  crime,  to  avoid  all 
appearance  of  evil,  she  even  had  some  heart-yearnings  after 
goodness,  and  wished  that  heaven  had  given  her  a  father  as 
good  to  watch  over  her.  But  she  did  not  go  down  to  the 
depths  of  her  heart,  to  strangle  the  scorpions  brooding  there. 
She  had  been  so  accustomed  to  dwell  on  evil  thoughts,  it  had 
become  the  habit  of  her  life.  Habit !  whose  iron  chains 
require  an  unshorn  giant's  strength  to  break.  Habit !  that 
indelible  dye  of  the  soul,  which  is  compared,  in  the  language 
of  inspiration,  to  the  Ethiopian's  skin  and  the  leopard's  spots. 

She  was  ashamed  of  the  detection,  rather  than  the  crime ; 
she  mourned  for  the  consequences  of  the  guilt,  not  the  guilt 
itself.  She  shuddered  at  the  dark  shadow,  more  than  the 
black  reality. 

Colonel  Fay  did  not  carry  her  to  Sunny  Dell,  but  left  her 
at  an  inn,  while  he  went  to  ascertain  from  his  sister  what  home 
would  open  to  receive  her.  It  was  her  doom  to  be  p^ced 
again  under  the  surveillance  of  Mrs.  Brown,  from  whose 
house  she  had  a  glimpse  of  the  almshouse,  her  early  abode. 
There  we  will  leave  her  for  the  present,  grieved  to  have 
recorded  such  proofs  of  depravity  in  one  whom  God  had  .:re» 
ated  so  fair. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

•*  'Tis  long  since  I  beheld  that  eye, 
That  gave  me  bliss  or  misery, 
And  I  have  striven,  but  in  vain, 
Never  to  think  of  it  again." 

"  Yes !  'tis  a  glorious  thought  to  me, 
Nor  longer  shall  my  soul  repine — 
Whate'er  thou  art,  or  e'er  shalt  be, 
Thou  hast  been  dearly,  solely  mine"  BYRON. 

SINCE  the  record  of  Stella's  transgression,  we  have  allowed 
the  stream  of  time  to  flow  on  for  a  while,  without  any  register 
of  the  events  that  marked  its  course.  But  it  did  flow,  bear- 
ing on  its  swift  current  human  hopes  and  joys  and  fears. 
The  wind-blown  blossom,  the  green  leaflet,  the  broken  branch, 
and  the  uprooted  tree — all  were  drifted  along  on  the  tide  that, 
unrefluent  and  unebbing,  rolls  on  to  the  ocean  of  eternity.  It 
rushes  on,  leaving  many  a  gallant  bark  and  stately  vessel 
wrecked  upon  its  waves,  but  pauses  not  for  the  shriek  of  the 
drowning  or  the  moan  of  the  surviving.  But  all  is  not  deso- 
lation and  ruin  where  its  billows  dash !  Green  islets,  like 
emerald  gems,  sparkle  on  its  waters,  new-born  flowers  margin 
its  shores,  and  other  barks,  with  snowy  sails  and  gallant  crew, 
leave  their  glittering  wake  on  the  swelling  flood. 

Winter  and  summer,  seed-time  and  harvest  came  and  went, 
and  the  Drincipal  characters  in  our  drama  of  life  experienced 
but  little  change  in  themselves  or  surrounding  circumstances. 
The  inflexible  pride  of  the  Hon.  Mr.  Lindsey  remained  un- 
bent— his  ambition,  as  towering  as  ever.  Sherwood  had 

(240) 


RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD.  241 

finished  the  reading,  and  commenced  the  practice  of  la«r.  Ho 
felt  himself  an  independent  being;  and,  could  he  have  obtained 
Colonel  Fay's  consent  to  a  union  with  Rtua,  in  spite  of  the 
opposition  of  his  father,  he  would  have  braved  his  displeasure, 
and  dared  the  penalty  of  disinheritance  and  banishment  from 
the  paternal  roof.  He  had  visited  Rena  at  Sunny  Dell — for 
Aunt  Debby  no  longer  issued  her  ban  at  the  threshold ;  but 
the  long  hours  of  absence,  unrelieved  by  written  communica- 
tions, were  becoming  more  and  more  intolerable.  Sherwood 
chafed  under  his  father's  despotic  pride  and  Colonel  Fay's 
inexorable  sense  of  justice;  and  Rena  began  to  feel  that  if 
love  had  its  sunlight,  it  had  its  shadow  also. 

Aunt  Debby,  around  whose  softening  heart  Rena  had 
twined  herself  closer  and  closer,  making  the  once  waste  place 
green  and  blossoming  with  new-born  affections,  beheld  with 
sorrow  the  dejection  that  succeeds  baffled  hope  settling  on  the 
spirits.  She  dwelt  upon  the  subject  more  and  more,  and 
again  and  again  the  thought  returned  to  her,  that  if  she  saw 
Herbert  Lindsey  herself,  she  might  possibly  awaken  in  his 
heart,  cold  and  worldly  as  it  might  be,  one  spark  of  nature, 
one  feeling  of  sympathy,  for  the  youthful  attachment  of  hia 
con.  She  would  claim  it  as  an  atonement  for  her  own  unex- 
piated  wrongs.  She  knew  he  could  not  have  forgotten  all 
remembrance  of  his  life's  romance ;  he  had  once  loved  her. 
Shamefully  as  he  had  deserted,  cruelly  as  he  had  wronged, 
he  had  once  loved  her ;  and  she  knew,  by  her  own  heart's 
ineffaceable  memories,  that  time  could  not  obliterate  the  im- 
pressions of  youth.  They  might  be  overgrown,  obscured  by 
cares  and  sins  and  worldliness,  but  let  a  bold  hand  sweep 
aside  the  rank  luxuriance,  the  engraven  characters  would  once 
more  reappear. 

Aunt  Debby,  too,  was  more  and  more  deeply  impressed 
with  a  sense  of  her  responsibility  to  God  and  her  obligations 
to  man,  as  a  part  of  the  great  brotherhood  of  humanity.  She 


242  RENAJ   OE,   THE   SNOWBIRD. 

felt  her  own  need  of  forgiveness  as  a  fallible  and  sinning 
mortal ;  and  when  she  bent  her  knee  in  prayer,  to  supplicate 
pardon  for  herself,  the  words  often  trembled  on  her  lips,  from 
the  consciousness  that  the  wrongs  inflicted  on  herself  were 
unpardoned,  and  often  remembered  with  vindictive  bitterness. 
Perhaps  (for  the  heart  is  a  strange  and  complicated  thing !)  a 
lingering  desire  to  speak  once  again  to  the  man  she  had 
loved  with  such  impassioned  tenderness,  and  whose  fascinations 
resisted  the  power  of  time,  mingled  with  her  more  disin- 
terested feelings.  She  could  not  go  to  Bellevue,  and  ask 
admission  to  its  haughty  master,  but  should  he  chance  to 
cross  her  path,  perhaps  she  might  "  open  her  lips  in  parables 
and  utter  dark  sayings  of  old." 

Aunt  Debby  was  kind  to  the  sick  and  afflicted,  but  she 
always  tried  to  do  them  good  by  stealth.  As  we  have  said 
before,  she  was  ashamed  of  being  thought  too  amiable ;  and 
though  she  was  gradually  conquering  this  shame,  the  habit 
of  concealing  her  good  deeds  as  much  as  possible  remained. 
She  loved  to  go  alone,  when  she  sought  ^their  dwellings,  and 
to  walk  through  the  most  retired  paths  and  most  unfrequented 
roads. 

One  afternoon,  late  in  the  autumnal  season,  she  was  return- 
ing from  a  visit  to  a  poor  sick  woman,  who  lived  on  the  road 
running  back  of  Bellevue.  It  was  a  lonely  and  untravelled 
path ;  and  even  in  the  depth  of  summer,  when  everything 
wears  a  bright  and  glowing  aspect,  this  shaded  and  solitary 
road  was  one  which  a  mourner  might  seek,  as  congenial  to  his 
melancholy  contemplations.  Now,  the  trees  were  tinged 
with  autumn's  prophetic  gold,  and  here  and  there  a  fallen 
leaf,  sere  and  russet,  breathed  its  moral  to  the  heart.  The 
grass,  instead  of  yielding,  like  soft  velvet,  noiselessly  to  the 
jressure,  crumpled  under  the  foot,  that  broke  as  it  touched 
the  brittle  blades.  A  smoky  haze  dimmed  the  atmosphere,  so 
that  the  blue  outline  of  the  distant  hills  was  scarcely  distin- 


RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD.  243 

guished  from  the  horizon  on  which  they  rested.  It  was  in 
this  lone  path,  with  her  mind  solemnized  by  the  sight  of 
human  suffering,  and  by  reflections  on  the  fading  glory  of  the 
year,  that  Aunt  Debby,  who  was  walking  slowly  along,  with 
her  eyes  bent  upon  the  ground,  became  aware,  by  some  internal 
evidence,  that  some  one  "was  approaching,  for  it  was  neither 
by  signs  or  sound,  so  deeply  was  she  abstracted,  and  looking 
up,  she  beheld  the  well-remembered  face  and  form  of  Herbert 
Lindsey.  He  was  himself  absorbed  in  meditation,  and  merelj 
noticed  that  a  woman  was  in  the  path  before  him.  He  knew 
not  who  that  woman  was  till  he  was  very  near,  and  felt  her 
deep  black  eyes  riveted  upon  him,  not  in  scorn  and  vengeance, 
as  he  had  sometimes  met  them,  but  with  a  solemn  earnestness 
of  expression  that  strangely  impressed  him.  He  was  so  close 
that  her  rustling  dress  might  have  touched  him,  and  he  invo- 
luntarily paused,  arrested  by  the  spell  of  that  prophet-like 
glance,  when,  recollecting  himself,  he  touched  his  hat  with 
his  hand  and  was  passing  on. 

"  Herbert  Lindsey  1"  said  she,  and  her  voice,  mellowed  by 
the  memories  that  came  rushing  in  upon  her,  sounded  like  a 
strain  of  long-forgotten  music.  She  hardly  recognised  it  her- 
Belf,  so  different  was  it  from  the  tones  of  the  mistress  of  Sunny 
Dell.  "  Herbert  Lindsey  !  we  have  met  before.  Perhaps  we 
may  not  meet  again  till  the  day  when  you  and  I  shall  read 
each  other's  hearts  in  the  light  of  God's  eternal  day.  I  would 
speak  with  you  one  moment." 

The  sound  of  a  voice  which  had  so  long  been  dead  to  him, 
addressing  him,  too,  by  his  youthful  name,  caused  a  quick 
vibration  of  the  nerves  and  a  sudden  rush  of  blood  to  his 
unusually  pale  face.  Had  she  spoken  to  him  in  a  harsh, 
indignant  tone,  he  would  have  wrapped  the  mantle  of  his 
pride  more  closely  round  him  and  passed  coldly  by.  But  the 
suuJenness  of  the  appeal,  the  solemn  words  she  uttered,  coming 
life  <  an  awful  climax  to  the  silent  thoughts  on  which  he  was 


244  KENAJ   OR,   THB  SNOWBIRD. 

brooding,  and  the  emphasis  of  her  thrilling  glance — all  rooted 
him  to  the  spot.  He  was  hurled  back,  as  it  were,  in  the  abyss 
of  the  past, — the  present  was  annihilated — the  future  forgotten 
for  one  moment,  so  strong  was  the  illusion  created  by  the 
voice,  addressing  him  by  the  almost  forgotten  name  of  Her- 
bert. He  seemed  to  wander  in  the  green  shades  of  her  forest 
home,  breathing  words  of  impassioned  love  to  a  charmed  and 
believing  ear.  For  one  moment,  the  purest,  most  unworldly 
period  of  his  life  was  restored  to  him ;  for  he  had  loved  the 
wild  country  girl,  whose  heart  he  had  awakened  to  such  luxu- 
riant growth  by  the  tropic  rays  of  passion.  The  impression 
faded,  like  a  dissolving  scene,  for  there  was  little  in  the  person 
of  Aunt  Debby  to  recall  the  form  and  features  of  her  who  had 
once  arrested  his  roving  fancy.  Still,  she  was  as  different  from 
the  harsh  and  defying  woman  whom  he  had  occasionally  met 
in  his  daily  rides,  as  the  blooming  maiden,  in  whose  eye  love 
was  once  enthroned.  Never,  perhaps,  in  his  whole  life  had 
he  felt  more  fully  her  uncxpiatcd  and  inexpiable  wrongs. 
Aunt  Debby,  who  had  once  learned  and  never  had  forgotten 
the  study  of  that  splendid  countenance,  perceived  the  traces 
of  emotions  she  had  not  dreamed  of  exciting.  And  if  he,  the 
proud,  cold,  worldly  devotee  of  ambition,  was  moved  to  a  tran- 
sient exhibition  of  feeling,  surely  she,  a  woman,  whose  heart, 
unnaturally  hardened,  had  lately  been  fusing  in  the  warmth 
of  household  affections — she,  who,  in  the  midst  of  all  her 
injuries,  and  in  the  time  of  vindictive  remembrance,  could  say, 
"  There  are  moments  when  I  love  him  still !" — she  felt  that 
inner  current  which  flows  far  below  the  surface  stirred  to  its 
very  depths.  It  was  astonishing  what  youthfulness  was  brought 
back  to  her  face  as  the  light  and  the  glow  of  other  days  kindled 
and  flitted  like  flame  across  her  features. 

It  must  not  be  supposed,  because  many  words  have  been 
used  to  express  the  simultaneous  emotions  that  agitated  the 
bosoms  of  each  that  they  stood  long  in  silcnce;  gazing  into 


RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD.  245 

each  other's  faces.  Thought  and  feeling  are  like  the  light- 
ning's flash,  darting  instantaneously  over  the  clouds  of  the 
soul,  and  often  leaving  as  little  trace  after  its  burning  passage. 

"  This  is  an  unexpected  greeting,"  said  he,  in  that  rich, 
deep-toned  voice,  on  which  a  listening  Senate  had  often  hung 
entranced.  "  You  would  speak  with  me,  madam ;  I  wait  your 
commands." 

How  strange  it  sounded  to  hear  him,  Herbert  Lindsey,  call 
her  Madam.  It  recalled  her  at  once  to  a  sense  of  their  pre- 
sent position.  The  abyss  again  opened,  which  for  a  moment 
had  closed,  and  she  felt  how  wide  a  chasm  separated  tne  pre- 
sent from  the  past.  Right  by  the  spot  where  they  stood,  in 
the  shadow  of  the  wall  that  ran  along  the  way -side,  there  was 
a  fallen  tree — with  its  gnarled  and  gigantic  roots  coiling  in 
the  air,  and  its  withered  branches  pressing  on  the  earth. 
Aunt  Debby  was  weary  from  her  long  walk,  and  that  gray 
old  ruin  seemed  a  fitting  resting-place  for  the  interview  she 
desired.  Seating  herself  there,  and  motioning  with  her  hand 
for  him  to  take  a  seat  by  her  side,  she  said — 

"  It  is  not  to  reproach  you  for  the  past,  or  to  call  up  from 
the  grave  of  years,  memories  long  buried,  and,  perhaps,  for- 
gotten by  you,  that  I  thus  force  my  presence  on  you.  Had 
any  one  told  me  three  years  ago,  that  I  could  ever  have  done 
this,  I  would  have  scoffed  at  them  as  lying  prophets." 

"  I  certainly  did  not  expect  this  honour,"  said  he,  a  after 
so  many  years  of  estrangement  and  hostility  on  your  part. 
You  have  always  treated  me  as  a  deadly  enemy,  and  as  such  I 
have  learned  to  look  upon  myself." 

"  Estrangement  on  my  part  ?"  repeated  she,  the  fire  coming 
back  to  her  eye  and  the  sting  to  her  heart.  "  Estrangement 
on  my  part !  Herbert  Lindsey,  I  did  not  intend  to  speak  of 
what  is  now  irremediable,  only  as  it  might  save  others  from 
misery ;  but  I  must  give  vent  to  the  words  that  are  now  suffo- 
cating me.  Can  you  look  towards  me  and  say  that  estrange 


246  RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD. 

ment  began  with  me  ?  Did  I  not  wait  you  at  the  sltar,  till  1 
wished  my  bridal  raiments  were  my  shroud,  and  the  dark- 
robed  clergyman  sitting  gravely  and  solemnly  before  me,  a 
priest  performing  my  funeral  rites  ?  Did  you  not  make  me  a 
scorn,  and  a  mockery,  and  a  by -word  among  men  ?  Did  you 
not — but  it  is  no  matter  now — it  will  be  no  matter  when  we 
are  both  lying  in  the  cold  arms  of  death — when  we  are  both 
facing  the  great  white  throne  above.  But,  let  me  tell  you 
this,  this  one  feeling  that  has  never  forsaken  me ;  had  you 
told  me,  frankly  and  sincerely,  that  you  no  longer  loved  me, 
that  you  loved  another,  that  your  youthful  fancy  for  me  had 
faded  away,  and  that  another  image  was  placed  upon  the  ruins 
of  mine,  I  would  have  released  you,  forgiven  you,  prayed  for 
you,  and  loved  you  still.  Heaven  knows  I  would.  Heaven 
knows  I  always  marvelled  what  you  ever  saw  in  one  like  me 
to  love." 

"I  did  write  to  you — I  did  ask  you  to  release  me;  telling 
you  of  the  opposition  of  my  father  and  my  friends.  You 
answered  not  my  letter,  and  I  supposed  you  scorned  my 
appeal.  I  do  not  justify  myself  for  my  broken  vows ;  but  I 
was  not  so  remorseless  a  villain  as  to  suffer  you,  knowingly,  to 
go  to  the  altar,  waiting  for  one  who  was  then  the  bridegroom 
of  another.  No,  I  have  many  crimes  to  answer  for,  but  I 
was  not  capable  of  an  act  of  such  wanton  cruelty  to  one, 
whose  only  fault  was  loving  me  too  well.  I  had  written,  and 
I  looked  upon  your  silence  as  a  proof  of  your  scorn,  I  tried 
to  think,  of  your  indifference." 

"  I  never  received  that  letter ! — never  !"  said  Aunt  Debby, 
with  a  deep  sigh.  "  I  wish  I  had — it  would  have  saved  me 
years  of  bitterness  at  least.  My  heart  might  have  been 
blighted,  but  not  embittered,  hardened  as  it  was.  I  never 
blamed  you  for  loving  her  you  wedded  better  than  you  did  me. 
She  was  worthy  of  the  preference.  But  it  was  the  public 
insult,  the  irremediable  disgrace,  that  goaded  me  to  madness." 


RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD.  247 

"  You  Lave  indeed  had  reason  to  execrate  me,"  said  the 
Senator,  leaning  his  brow  upon  his  hand  and  suffering  his  raven 
huir  to  fall  in  shadows  over  it — "  and  so  has  she,  too.  You 
have  been  the  happier  of  the  two,  and  have  reason  to  rejoice 
in  the  destiny  that  separated  you  from  me.  I  was  not  formed 
for  domestic  happiness.  The  flowers  of  the  valley  never 
bloomed  for  me.  I  was  created  to  climb  the  dizzy  heights  of 
ambition,  and,  like  the  bird  of  the  sun,  to  dip  my  wings  in  its 
beams  I"  He  raised  his  head  as  he  spoke,  and  throwing  back 
his  hair,  his  proud  spirit  flashed  from  his  eagle  eyes. 

"  Have  you  found  happiness  in  your  lofty  career  ?"  asked 
Aunt  Debby.  "Have  the  beams  warmed,  while  they  illu- 
mined you?" 

"  Happiness !"  repeated  he,  with  a  disdainful  smile.  "  Who 
ever  found  happiness  in  this  world  ?  It  is  the  dream  of  youth ! 
— the  meteor  of  manhood !  But  in  the  stormy  strife  with 
other  minds,  the  stern  struggle  for  distinction,  I  have  escaped 
that  dull  stagnation,  that  mouldering  away  of  the  being,  worse 
a  thousand  times  than  the  vulture's  fangs  or  the  thunder's 
bolt 1" 

Aunt  Debby,  finding  a  singular  fascination  in  the  interview, 
had  almost  forgotten  the  object  for  which  she  sought  it;  but 
the  turn  the  conversation  had  taken  pressed  it  upon  her  recol- 
lection. 

"If  happin.ess  is  only  the  dream  of  youth,"  she  cried, 
"  woe  be  to  those  who  destroy  the  bright  illusion  !  You  have 
a  son,  Herbert  Lindsey;  do  you  not  desire  his  happiness? 
Even  if  you  have  found  it  a  shadow  yourself;  even  if  you 
believe  it  a  mockery ;  do  you  not,  in  your  secret  heart,  desire 
that  he  may  be  happy  ?" 

"  I  do,"  said  he,  his  countenance  resuming  that  haughty 
expression  now  habitual  to  it. 

"  Your  son  loves  my  niece — has  loved  her  from  childhood !" 

"Enough — enough !"  he  exclaimed,  folding  his  arms  over  his 
50 


248  RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD. 

breast,  as  if  he  thus  closed  up  every  avenue  to  his  heart.  "I 
do  not  allow  the  least  dictation  in  my  domestic  affairs.  As  J 
have  chosen  for  myself,  so  have  1  chosen  for  my  son — a  shi- 
lling mark — a  lofty  goal !" 

"  I  do  not  dictate,"  she  cried,  earnestly,  "  I  entreat  for  two 
youthful  beings,  whose  happiness  hangs  trembling  on  your 
will.  If  your  conscience  ever  tells  you  that  you  have  injured 
me,  as  you  but  now  expressed,  let  this  be  the  only  expiation 
I  shall  ever  ask." 

"  Ask  anything  for  yourself  and  it  shall  be  granted.  My 
son  belongs  to  me." 

"  For  myself ! — this  is  mockery  !  What  is  there  left  for  me 
to  ask  ?  Can  you  give  me  back  my  blighted  youth,  undoubt- 
ing  faith,  and  unshaken  trust  ?  Oan  you  turn  back  the  river 
of  time  and  restore  the  hopes  buried  in  its  waters  ?  No  !  I 
ask  nothing  for  myself — nor  would  I  accept  a  kingdom  from 
your  hands.  But  I  do  demand,  as  an  atonement  for  the  past, 
your  sanction  to  a  union  on  which  the  happiness  of  one  far 
dearer  to  me  than  my  own  self  depends." 

"  Your  language  is  imperative,  madam,"  said  he,  rising 
with  a  darkened  countenance.  "  I  am  not  accustomed  to  de- 
mands. It  is  probable  that  within  a  short  time  I  shall  leave 
this  country  for  a  foreign  court,  where  I  must  maintain  in  my 
own  person  the  honour  and  dignity  of  the  land  of  my  birth. 
My  son  will  accompany  me ;  and  in  the  great  scenes  unfolding 
to  his  view,  he  will  lose  sight  of  the  follies  of  his  boyhood. 
Any  request,  any  command  even,  independent  of  family  ag- 
grandizement, shall  be  courteously  listened  to/' 

"  You  have  no  heart!"  she  cried,  rising,  too,  and  crushing 
under  her  feet,  the  dry,  yellow  leaves,  rustling  beneath  her; 
"  I  have  wasted  words  on  a  man  of  iron.  I  believed  for  one 
moment,  that  you  were  accessible  to  human  feeling,  but  I  was 
mistaken.  I  have  humbled  myself  in  vain  before  an  inexora- 
ble will.  But  my  purpose  was  holy,  and  God  be  the  judge 


RENA;  on,  THE  SNOWBIRD.  249 

between  us,  which  has  most  cause  for  shame,  you  or  I !  Look 
around  you :  everything  breathes  of  decay,  the  withered  leaves, 
this  fallen  tree,  the  mournful  autumn  gale.  We  too  are 
passing  away.  Time  ia  short,  Eternity  is  long.  Farewell, 
Herbert  Lindsey ;  something  tells  me,  that  it  is  the  last  time 
we  shall  ever  meet  on  this  side  of  the  grave !" 

Her  voice  gradually  sunk  into  a  low  tone  of  deep  solemnity, 
and  as  she  turned  slowly  away,  the  proud  anger  of  the  Sena- 
tor subsided,  under  the  melancholy  influence  of  her  prophetic 
words.  He  walked  along  in  silence  by  her  side,  through  the 
'  narrow,  darkly  shaded  path,  that  led  towards  her  home.  When 
they  came  to  the  open  road,  where  the  habitations  of  men 
began  to  appear,  she  stopped  and  said — 

"  We  part  here.  Think  of  all  I  have  said,  and  perhaps  I 
may  not,  after  all,  have  spoken  in  vain.  In  the  silence  of  night, 
the  secrecy  of  darkness,  it  will  come  back  to  you,  and  mingling 
with  the  whispers  of  conscience,  still  have  power.  Once 
again,  farewell  1  May  God  forgive  you  all  your  offences  against 
Him,  as  freely  as  I  forgive  those  committed  against  me !" 

She  extended  her  hand,  and  swept,  with  one  rapid  glance, 
that  kingly  figure  she  might  never  again  behold.  How  strangely 
she  felt,  as  his  hand  closed  over  hers !  that  hand  which  had  never 
before  met  her  touch  without  awakening  a  thrill  of  ecstasy ; 
now,  it  seemed  to  her  the  token  of  an  everlasting  farewell,  and 
cold  shivers  ran  through  her  frame. 

"  Farewell,  Deborah  Fay  1"  said  he;  "I  deserve  your  curse, 
and  not  your  forgiveness  j  but  I  thank  you  for  it.  You  are 
right ;  I  shall  remember  your  words.  This  strange  meeting 
will  haunt  me  like  a  ghost.  It  is  like  the  awakening  of  the 
dead." 

His  grasp  tightened  momentarily,  round  her  cold  fingers, 
relaxed  again,  and  they  parted,  never  to  meet  again,  as  she  had 
said,  on  this  side  of  the  grave.  She  walked  slowly  homeward, 
without  looking  back,  though  her  thoughts  were  all  rolling 


250  EENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD. 

behind.  So  overpowering  had  been  her  emotions,  that  her 
limbs  suddenly  lost  their  strength,  and  she  was  obliged  to  lean 
against  the  fence  for  support.  It  is  a  false  idea  that  the  feel- 
ings and  passions  are  strongest  in  early  life.  As  the  beams 
of  the  noonday  sun  are  stronger  and  warmer  than  his  dawning 
rays,  so  does  the  heart  at  life's  zenith  hour,  throb  with  stronger, 
warmer  pulsations,  than  in  the  morning  twilight,  or  glowing 
antemeridian  of  being.  As  she  clung  to  the  gray  railing  that 
formed  part  of  the  boundary  of  Sunny  Dell,  and  thought  of 
the  past  so  vividly,  forcibly  recalled,  she  asked  herself,  if  she 
had  power  to  live  over  again  her  vanished  hours,  whether  she 
would  wish  the  name  of  Herbert  Lindsey  blotted  from  the 
record,  and  strange  as  it  may  seem,  she  answered  "  No."  She 
would  not  go  down  into  the  grave,  as  too  many  do,  without 
knowing  the  unbounded  capacities  of  her  own  heart,  that  fore- 
taste of  an  immortal  existence.  Much  as  she  had  suffered, 
and  might  still  suffer,  she  had  been  awakened  to  the  full  joy 
of  loving,  and  that  memory  was  worth  an  age  of  indifference. 
And  when,  carried  out  of  herself,  she  remembered  Rena,  and 
the  grounds  on  which  Tier  hopes  rested,  she  felt  a  conviction 
that  notwithstanding  the  cold  repelling  words  which  had  met  • 
her  warm  appeal,  it  was  not  lost  in  air.  She  was  glad  that 
she  had  been  strengthened  to  perform  what  she  believed  a  duty, 
and  she  went  on  her  way  with  a  firmer  tread. 

In  the  mean  time,  Herbert  Lindsey  approached  Bellevue,  with 
very  different  feelings  from  those  with  which  he  had  left  it.  A 
shaft  had  found  its  way  to  his  heart,  winged  by  the  hand  of  truth, 
and  it  fastened  and  rankled  there.  It  seemed  as  if  he  were 
destined  to  rouse  all  the  scorpions  of  memory,  in  that  autumnal 
walk.  Just  before  turning  into  the  path  that  led  directly  to 
bis  own  home,  he  met  the  young  charity  girl,  whom  he  had 
not  beheld  since  he  had  banished  her  from  his  own  roof.  He 
remembered  the  promise  he  had  made  his  son,  that  she  should 
oever  want  while  he  lived,  a  promise  he  had  not  yet  fulfilled. 


RENAJ   OR,   THE   SNOWBIRD.  251 

As  he  no  longer  feared  an  attachment  for  her  on  the  part  of 
his  son,  he  felt  with  more  remorse  the  claims  of  this  poor, 
disregarded  girl.  She  started  when  she  saw  him,  and  a  cloud 
of  fear  and  aversion  passed  over  her  face.  There  was  an  air 
of  neglect  about  her  person,  a  weariness  and  gloom  in  her 
countenance,  that,  while  it  marred  the  splendour  of  her  beauty, 
excited  more  interest  in  him,  than  a  brighter,  more  joyous  ex- 
terior would  have  done. 

"Girl,  where  do  you  live  now?"  said  he,  stopping  and 
addressing  her,  to  her  unspeakable  astonishment.  She  pointed 
to  the  house  of  Mrs.  Brown,  just  seen  through  the  many- 
coloured  leaves — for  she  was  too  much  disconcerted  to  speak. 
That  lady,  who  had  discovered  that  she  had  such  a  superior 
talent  for  managing  young  girls,  had  assumed  the  almost 
exclusive  guardianship  of  Stella,  who,  defeated  in  all  her 
wild,  ambitious  schemes,  dragged  on,  in  sullen  endurance,  her 
eleemosynary  existence. 

"  I  promised  Mrs.  Lindsey,"  continued  he, "  when  I  refused 
you  a  home,  to  see  that  you  never  suffered  want.  Take  this 
pocket-book,  and  when  you  have  exhausted  the  supply  it  con- 
tains, it  shall  be  replenished." 

Stella  felt  the  pocket-book  in  her  hands,  or  she  would 
have  doubted  the  evidence  of  her  hearing.  Such  sudden 
and  unlooked-for  liberality  overpowered  her. 

"You  are  very  kind,  sir,"  she  said,  stammering,  feeling 
more  shame  at  receiving  money  from  the  proud  man  she  so 
hated,  than  in  stealing  it  from  one  who  was  sheltering  her 
under  their  roof. 

"  Have  you  a  comfortable  home  ?"  he  asked,  with  still  more 
remarkable  condescension. 

"  No,  sir,"  said  she,  bitterly  j  "  I  am  nothing  but  a  slave 
from  morning  till  night.  If  I  ever  complain  of  my  lot,  my 
mistress  points  to  yonder  almshouse,  my  early  home,  and 
threatens  to  send  me  back." 


252  RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD. 

"  Why  do  you  remain  with  her  ?"  he  inquired,  following 
the  direction  of  her  eye  to  the  low-roofed  building,  that  stood 
on  a  lone  common,  as  if  set  apart  from  social  communion. 
There  were  dark  memories  hanging  there,  and  he  turned 
away  with  an  involuntary  shudder. 

"  I  cannot  go  where  I  would,"  she  -answered,  in  a  tone  of 
hopeless  despondency.  "  Everybody  is  getting  tired  of  me ; 
everybody  despises  me  because  I  am  poor." 

"  Do  you  remember  your  mother  ?"  he  asked,  with  an  irre- 
sistible impulse. 

"  She  died  when  I  was  an  infant." 

"  Have  you  any  memorial  of  her  ?"  he  continued,  carried 
away  by  the  strong  impulse  which  was  mastering  him,  and 
forgetting  the  strange  impression  his  questions  might  make. 

"  Nothing  but  this  locket,"  replied  she,  looking  at  him 
with  intense  curiosity ;  but  his  eyes  were  fixed  upon  the 
medallion  she  lifted  from  her  neck,  and  he  observed  it  not. 
She  pressed  her  fingers  on  the  edge,  and  it  flew  open,  reveal- 
ing a  glass  case,  in  which  two  locks  of  hair  were  linked  toge- 
ther, one  of  paly  gold,  the  other  of  raven  blackness. 

"  Did  you  know  my  mother,  sir  ?"  she  exclaimed,  fixing  her 
eyes,  with  a  sudden  gleaur,  on  the  Senator's  sable  locks. 

"  Yes,  I  saw  her  once,  when  a  girl  like  you,"  he  answered, 
recalled  to  a  sense  of  his  imprudence,  and  turning  proudly 
from  her. 

'  And  my  father !"  she  cried,  springing  after  him  and 
seizing  with  daring  hand  the  sleeve  of  his  coat;  "tell  me  if 
you  know  him — tell  me  where  I  may  find  him,  and  claim  his 
protection." 

"  How  should  /  know  your  father,  presuming  girl  ?"  cried 
he,  his  lips  turning  of  ashy  paleness.  "  I  felt  an  interest  in 
your  fate,  and  condescended  to  question  you.  Release  me," 
added  he,  with  such  an  air  of  imperial  haughtiness,  she  dared 
not  resist;  "and  remember  the  next  time,  to  whom  you 
j»peak." 


RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD.  253 

*  I  do  remember ;"  folding  her  hands  with  an  air  of  mock 
humility  over  her  breast.  She  was  tempted  to  hurl  the  pock- 
et-book after  him,  so  galling  was  it  to  receive  a  gift,  accom- 
panied by  such  haughty  words ;  but  the  money  might  serve  to 
release  her  from  her  present  bondage.  The  wild  suspicion 
excited  by  the  jetty  locks  still  lurked  in  her  mind.  She 
recollected  his  dark,  troubled  countenance,  when  he  first  met 
her  at  the  gate,  his  denunciations  when  he  found  her  a  guest 
at  his  house,  his  passionate  interdictions  of  all  intercourse  be- 
tween her  and  his  son.  Pride  alone  could  not  excite  such  stormy 
passions,  such  maddening  fears.  Hugging  her  thoughts  in 
secrecy,  she  determined  to  visit  the  almshouse,  and  inquire 
more  particularly  of  her  parentage,  and  her  mother's  history. 
Till  now,  she  had  felt  no  interest  in  searching  for  more  than 
had  been  revealed.  She  knew  that  her  mother  had  died  in 
unwedded  misery,  and  that  no  father  claimed  her  as  his  child. 
The  locket  she  wore  upon  her  neck  was  her  only  inheritance 
—even  her  name  was  the  gift  of  fancy,  for  it  seemed  her  mo- 
ther did  not  wish  her  to  wear  hers,  associated  as  it  was  with 
degradation  and  sorrow. 

Mr.  Lindsey  entered  his  house  and  walked  at  once  into  the 
library.  He  was  warm  from  exercise  and  tumultuous  emo- 
tions, and  leaving  the  door  unclosed,  he  threw  himself  into  a 
chair. 

"  Fool  I"  thought  he,  "  I  came  very  near  exposing  myself 
by  my  insane  questions.  My  meeting  with  that  woman  haa 
unnerved  me." 

As  he  sat  thus,  with  his  door  open,  he  heard  voices  in  the 
antechamber,  in  earnest  conversation.  One  was  that  of  Mrs. 
Lindsey,  the  other  of  a  stranger.  He  paid  no  attention  to 
the  sounds,  which  murmured  with  a  kind  of  waterfall  mono- 
tony, till  he  heard  the  name  of  Stella  Lightnsr,  pronounced 
with  emphasis  by  the  strange  lady,  and  he  wad  roused  to  lis» 
ten.  She  was  from  the  metropolis,  and  was  relating  the  story 


254  RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD. 

of  Stella's  theft  and  detection,  as  she  had  heard  it  from  the 
gossipping  milliner,  whose  shop  was  the  resort  of  the  fashion- 
able loungers  of  the  day.  Hearing  that  the  young  girl,  who 
was  the  heroine  of  the  disgraceful  story,  resided  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood, she  felt  a  natural  curiosity  to  learn  something  more 
of  her  history,  for  Mrs.  Modely  had  represented  her  as  having 
the  beauty  of  an  angel.  Mrs.  Lindsey  seemed  exceedingly 
distressed,  for  she  had  felt  an  uncommon  interest  in  her  beau- 
tiful protegee.  She  mourned  over  the  depravity  which  she 
said  must  have  had  ite  origin  in  early  neglect.  The  poor 
mother  had  expiated  her  sins  by  her  life,  and  was  dead  before 
her  child  was  capable  of  receiving  moral  lessons,  but  the  un- 
natural father — on  him  must  rest  the  burthen  of  her  guilt. 
Every  word  she  uttered  fell  like  drops  of  molten  lead  on  her 
husband's  sore  and  wounded  conscience.  On  him  rested  the 
burthen  of  that  guilt.  Against  his  name,  must  the  accusing 
spirit,  that  bore  up  the  accents  of  his  pure  and  gentle  wife, 
record  the  denunciation.  He  could  not  bear  to  remain  a  lis» 
tener  to  a  conversation  so  blasting.  He  could  close  the  doors 
and  exclude  the  sound  from  his  own  ears ;  but  he  wanted  to 
stop  it ;  he  did  not  want  such  things  said,  as  if  silence  could 
avert  the  curse,  that  must  fall  from  no  human  lips.  He  rose 
and  walked  in  the  piazza,  till  the  stranger  guest  departed, 
when  he  went  into  the  apartment  where  his  wife  was  seated, 
whose  pale,  sweet  face  was  illumined  with  a  smile  of  welcome, 
as  his  well-known  step  drew  near. 


CHAPTER  XVH. 

"  Oh !  ye,  whose  hour-glass  shifts  its  tranquil  sands 
In  the  uuvexed  silence  of  the  student's  cell ; 
Ye  whose  untempted  hearts  have  never  tossed 
Upon  the  dark  and  stormy  sea  where  life 
Gives  battle  to  the  elements — and  man 
Wrestles  with  man,  for  some  slight  plank 
Whose  weight  will  bear  but  one — to  me  alike 
Or  day  or  night — ambition  has  no  rest."  BULWEK. 

"  HAVE  my  letters  been  brought  from  the  office  ?"  asked 
the  Senator.  Mrs.  Lindsey  answered  by  putting  in  his  hand 
a  large  packet,  bearing  the  Washington  post-mark.  It  was 
with  no  common  interest  he  broke  the  wax  that  sealed  these 
important  papers.  He  had  been  anxiously  expecting  them. 
They  probably  announced  his  appointment  as  Minister  Pleni- 
potentiary to  the  foreign  court  to  which  his  eyes  had  been  long 
turned — an  office  congenial  to  his  own  ambition,  and  doubly 
desirable,  as  his  most  powerful  political  rival  and  bitterest 
enemy  was  also  a  candidate.  Conscious  of  his  commanding 
talents,  irresistible  eloquence,  and  remarkable  personal  influ- 
ence, he  never  dreamed  of  defeat.  He  rejoiced  that  his  enemy 
was  a  rival  candidate,  for  the  downfall  of  his  aspiring  hopes 
would  only  glorify  his  own  success.  He  had  spoken  openly 
to  his  family  of  his  going  abroad,  and  of  his  plans  for  the 
future,  for  he  had  signified  to  the  President  his  willingness  to 
accept  the  situation,  thinking  he  conferred  a  far  greater  honour 
in  receiving,  than  the  Chief  Magistrate  did  in  bestowing  it 
With  a  kindling  eye  he  broke  the  seal,  and  his  glance  ran 
rapidly  over  the  contents.  A  cloud  black  as  night  lowered 

(255) 


256  RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD. 

upon  his  brow.  He  dropped  the  letter  and  ground  it  fiercely 
with  his  iron  heel. 

"  And  this  is  my  reward !" — he  exclaimed,  forgetting  the 
presence  of  his  wife  in  his  overwhelming  rage  and  mortifica- 
tion— "  for  this  have  I  toiled  and  intrigued,  and  bartered  my 
soul's  peace — to  be  set  aside  for  the  blackest  villain  that  ever 
dared  to  usurp  Congressional  honours !  Had  it  been  anybody 
else  I  might  have  borne  it.  But  for  him  to  triumph  over  me  I 
By  Heaven  !  I'll  not  emdure  it !" 

Stooping  down,  he  took  up  the  trampled  paper  and  tore  it  in 
a  thousand  pieces. 

"My  husband — my  dear  husband/' — said  his  trembling 
wife — "  be  not  thus  moved.  You  are  already  burdened  with 
public  honours.  I  should  think  you  would  be  weary  of  them. 
Oh !  if  this  disappointment  led  you  to  withdraw  from  the 
world  to  the  quiet  of  domestic  life  ;  to  the  bosom  of  your 
family;  the  circle  of  your  friends;  how  happy,  how  blest  we 
might  be !" 

She  spoke  with  unwonted  energy,  for  the  hope  that,  baffled 
in  ambition,  he  might  yet  turn  to  domestic  love  for  consola- 
tion, revived  her  poor,  wilted  heart.  Her  meek  eyes  were 
bent  sympathizingly,  beseechingly  upon  him. 

"  This  is  the  way  all  women  talk  !"  cried  he,  in  a  contempt- 
uous, bitter  tone.  "  What  do  they  know  about  it  ?  Have  I  not 
been  toiling  year  after  year,  step  by  step,  up  a  rugged  ascent  ? 
And  now,  when  I  find  myself  on  the  summit,  ready  to  look 
down  on  my  enemies  in  a  blaze  of  triumph,  I  am  hurled  from 
it  ungratefully,  shamefully,  and  my  worst  enemy  elevated  on 
my  ruin  !  Friends  !  talk  to  me  of  friends  I  I  have  none ! 
I  never  had  one !  I  have  sacrificed  friendship,  love,  joy,  every- 
thing to  ambition — and  this  is  my  reward  !" 

Throwing  himself  on  the  sofa,  he  leaned  his  head  on  the  arm 
and  covered  his  face  with  his  hands.  Mrs.  Lindsey  turned 
towards  him.  It  was  the  first  time  she  had  ever  seen  that 


RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD.  257 

Btately  head  bowed  as  if  in  sorrow,  and  her  timidity  vanished 
at  the  sight.  She  went  and  knelt  at  his  side,  that  she  might 
not  look  down  upon  him  in  this  prostration  of  his  spirit.  She 
even  ventured  to  put  her  yearning  arms  around  him  and  whis- 
per words  of  tenderness  and  sympathy. 

"Herbert,  my  husband!  say' not  that  you  have  no  friends. 
Am  not  I  your  friend  ?  Does  not  our  noble  boy  love  you  with 
devoted  affection?  Oh  !  by  the  love  that  no  neglect  or  cold- 
ness could  destroy,  let  me  entreat  you  to  discard  an  ungrate- 
ful public,  and  live  henceforth  for  the  wife  and  son  whose 
happiness  is  bound  up  in  yours  I" 

The  Senator  lifted  his  head,  and  his  bloodshot  eyes  met 
the  tearful  glance  of  his  wife.  He  looked  at  her  steadfastly 
for  a  moment,  and  his  face  was  "a  tablet  of  unutterable 
thoughts." 

"Yes,  Emily,"  said  he,  in  an  altered  voice;  "you  have 
been  a  devoted  wife — you  have  deserved  a  better  fate,  and  I 
pray  that  some  calmer,  happier  hours  are  yet  in  store  for  you. 
You  are  right — I  will  discard  an  ungrateful  world.  I  have 
sought  the  laurel  wreath,  and  won  the  crown  of  thorns.  Rise, 
and  sit  down  by  my  side — your  presence  is  soothing  to  me." 

She  rose,  with  a  feeling  of  happiness  long  a  stranger  to  her 
heart,  and  seating  herself  by  him,  surrendered  herself  to  hopes 
she  thought  for  ever  blighted.  He  still  retained  her  hand, 
but,  closing  his  eyes  and  leaning  back  on  the  sofa,  he  seemed 
to  indicate  a  wish  for  silence.  The  twilight  was  gradually 
deepening,  and  at  length  darkness  gathered  round  them.  She 
sat  motionless,  fearful  of  moving,  lest  she  should  disturb  medi- 
tations so  profound — lest  he  should  withdraw  his  hand,  and 
rouse  her  from  her  dream  of  felicity. 

"  You  had  better  ring  for  lights,"  said  he,  suddenly  rising. 
"  I  will  take  one  to  the  library.  Do  not  call  me  to  supper, 
for  I  do  not  wish  any.  I  have  a  great  many  letters  .to  write 
to-night,  and  do  not  like  to  be  disturbed.  Retire  without 


258  RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD. 

waiting  for  me.  I  shall  probably  be  up  till  long  past  mid- 
night." 

Taking  a  candle  from  the  servant,  who  brought  them  to  the 
door,  he  reached  the  threshold ;  then  turning  back,  to  where 
his  wife  stood,  with  her  pale,  anxious,  subdued  countenance — 

"  Emily,"  said  he,  "I  thant  you  for  your  sympathy — your 
devoted  affection.  I  have  not  deserved  it.  Forgive  my  harsh- 
ness and  coldness.  I  am  going  to  begin  a  new  life.  The  past 
will  be  all  a  dream.  Good  night  I" 

Then,  bending  down,  he  kissed  her  forehead,  and  left  her, 
happier  than  she  had  felt  since  the  early  days  of  her  mar- 
riage. It  was  no  unusual  thing  for  her  husband  to  go  with- 
out his  supper,  and  to  sit  up  beyond  the  midnight  hour.  She 
did  not  feel  any  solicitude  on  that  account,  but  she  hoped  this 
was  one  of  the  last  sacrifices  he  would  have  to  make  for  the 
world}  and  that  his  evenings  would  henceforth  be  devoted  to 
domestic  tranquillity.  The  words — "  I  am  going  to  begin  a 
new  life,"  were  so  soothing,  so  full  of  promise,  she  sat  down 
that  night  to  her  lonely  supper,  rejoicing  in  the  dawning  rays 
of  the  millennium  of  her  wedded  life. 

The  Senator  entered  his  library,  locked  the  door,  lighted 
the  astral  lamp  on  the  centre  of  the  table,  and  seating  himself, 
he  leaned  his  elbows  on  the  table  and  his  head  upon  his  hands. 
He  sat  thus  for  more  than  an  hour,  in  abstraction  so  deep, 
that  he  lost  all  consciousness  of  his  actual  position,  and  when 
he  looked  up  and  pushed  back  the  heavy  locks  from  his  brow, 
he  started  back  from  the  ghostly  company  that  surrounded 
him.  The  marble  busts  standing  out  so  cold,  and  white,  and 
ghastly  in  the  pale  lamp-light,  resembled  the  faces  of  the  dead, 
and  never  had  the  shadows,  resting  in  the  folds  of  the  dark, 
green  curtains  seemed  so  thick  and  gloomy.  With  a  cold, 
faint  smile  at  his  involuntary  recoil,  he  gazed  round  the  whole 
apartment,  taking  in  all  the  massy  volumes,  over  which  he 
had  pored  so  many  long  hours,  then  heaving  a  deep  sigh,  he 


RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD.  259 

drew  towards  him  pen,  ink,  and  paper,  and  began  to  write. 
Sometimes  he  would  write  xapidly,  as  if  his  pen  was  burning 
under  his  fingers,  then  he  would  throw  it  down  and  sink  into 
a  long  fit  of  abstraction.  Letter  after  letter  was  thus  written, 
sealed,  and  directed;  but  how  strange  were  the  superscrip- 
tions of  some  of  them  !  one  to  his  son,  and  another  to  Debo- 
rah Fay — he  must  have  forgotten  her  married  name.  There 
were  many  others  devoted  to  business ;  and  the  clock  struck 
the  midnight  hour  before  he  had  concluded.  Thick  drops  of 
perspiration  stood  upon  his  forehead  when  he  rose  from  his 
chair,  after  arranging  the  letters  in  a  conspicuous  manner 
around  the  lamp. 

"  ;Tis  done,"  he  cried,  "  I  shall  soon  be  ready  !"  Heady 
for  what  ?  methinks  some  anxious  voice  inquires.  Alas !  that 
the  most  magnificent  gifts  of  nature  should  be  thus  madly 
abused,  thus  ungratefully  thrown  back  to  the  giver  !  Herbert 
Lindsey  had  told  his  wife  that  he  intended  to  "  begin  a  new 
life  j"  but  with  a  far  different  meaning  from  what  entered  her 
misguided  heart.  He  had  wrought  himself  up  to  the  despe- 
rate determination  of  quitting  a  world  which  the  tyranny  of 
his  own  passions  had  converted  into  a  prison-house  of  anguish, 
as  if  he  could  annihilate  those  passions  with  his  rash,  heaven- 
daring  hand.  He  believed  in  the  God  of  creation,  but  not  of 
redemption.  He  rejected  the  lamp  which  revelation  offered 
to  illumine  the  darkness  of  the  future,  proudly  walking  in  the 
light  of  unassisted  reason.  He  had  lived  for  the  god  of  this 
world ;  and  now  when  he  was  spurned  from  the  altar  of  the 
deity  he  worshipped,  he  resolved  to  die  the  proud  master  of  his 
own  destiny ;  to  enter  futurity  like  a  victor,  with  bold  step 
and  resolute  hand,  rather  than  a  vassal,  awaiting  with  trem- 
bling spirit  the  summons  of  his  Lord.  Yes !  he  would  fall, 
like  the  monarch  of  the  forest,  struck  by  the  lightning's  bolt, 
in  the  fulness  of  its  leafy  honours,  rather  than  moulder  away 
by  the  slow  decay  of  age  or  disease.  There  were  moments, 


260  RENAj   OR,   THE   SNOWBIRD. 

when  invisible  hands  seemed  to  hold  him  back  from  the  tr*. 
mendous  brink  on  which  he  stood ;  when  his  son  rose  before 
him  in  the  beauty  of  his  young  manhood,  and  fixing  on  him 
his  clear,  dark,  rebuking  eyes,  entreated  him  to  stay  his  sui- 
cidal hand ;  when  his  wife  seemed  clinging  round  him,  im- 
ploring him  not  to  pierce  her  heart  through  the  lifeblood  of 
Aw.  There  were  moments,  too,  when  the  billows  of  the  dark 
ocean,  in  which  he  was  about  to  plunge,  seemed  waving 
beneath  his  feet,  so  black,  so  deep,  so  awful,  so  boundless, 
even  his  undaunted  spirit  recoiled  with  horror  and  dismay. 
But  if  there  was  an  unfathomable  gulf  before  him,  there  were 
spectres  behind,  mocking  and  goading  him  onward,  which  he 
would  not  turn  back  and  face. 

"  Yes !"  repeated  he,  "  I  shall  soon  be  ready."  Then 
rising  and  walking  to  the  window,  and  sweeping  aside  the 
heavy  curtains,  he  stood  and  gazed  upon  the  beautiful  world 
he  was  never  more  to  behold.  The  harvest  moon,  shining  in 
her  zenith  glory,  with  the  rich,  golden  lustre  of  autumn,  was 
rolling  slowly,  grandly  above,  while  the  stars  and  "  the  planets 
were  lost  in  her  blaze."  He  lifted  the  sash  that  he  might 
inhale  once  more  the  breath  of  heaven,  and  the  night-breeze 
came  in  and  rustled  softly  through  his  hair.  There  he  stood, 
covered  with  the  moonlight  as  with  a  mantle,  the  wind,  like 
the  breath  of  the  Deity,  whispering  to  his  spirit ;  looking  up 
into  the  illimitable  arch  of  Heaven,  meditating  the  most  awful 
crime  that  man,  with  unclouded  reason,  can  ever  perpetrate. 

"  Farewell,  beautiful,  but  vain,  unsatisfying  earth !"  he 
cried ;  "  I  have  tasted  all  thy  pleasures,  and  they  have  left 
ashes  and  gall  behind  them  j  I  have  enjoyed  thy  honours,  and 
they  have  turned  into  tortures  and  stings.  Farewell,  brief 
dream  of  life,  farewell !  The  hour  of  my  awakening  is  at 
hand;  I  go  to  solve  the  great  mystery  of  my  being,  that 
sublime  enigma  human  wisdom  never  yet  has  fathomed. 
When  to-morrow's  sun  shall  rise,  I  shall  know  the  secret  of 


RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD.  261 

its  beams ;  I  shall  be  an  archangel  in  knowledge,  or  be  lost  in 
the  blackness  of  annihilation." 

He  turned  and  quenched  the  flaming  lamp  that  illumined 
the  centre  of  the  apartment,  and  a  flood  of  heavenly  light 
swept  through  the  room. 

In  the  mean  time  Mrs.  Lindsey  occupied  her  solitary  cham- 
ber above,  listening  for  the  footsteps  of  him  who  was  never  to 
approach  her  more.  She  had  been  so  excited  by  the  con- 
versation before  supper,  and  the  thoughts  it  had  awakened — 
so  full  of  hope,  so  bright  with  promise,  that  she  could  not 
sleep.  The  moon,  too,  shone  with  such  surpassing  radiance, 
she  could  not  close  her  eyes  to  shut  out  the  beams.  She 
heard  the  clock  strike  twelve,  and  she  was  sure  her  vigils 
would  soon  be  at  an  end ;  and  yet,  every  stroke  sounded  like 
a  knell,  and  she  imagined  there  was  a  deep,  unusual  pause 
between  each  counted  hour.  Another  hour  might  have  glided 
away,  when  the  sudden,  sharp  report  of  a  pistol,  and  the 
heavy  sound  of  a  falling  body  in  the  room  below,  went  right 
through  her  head  and  heart,  shivering  every  nerve  and  fibre 
of  her  being.  That  room  was  the  library — that  noise — She 
sprang  from  the  bed  with  a  shriek  so  terrible  it  rang  through 
the  silent  house,  wakening  a  thousand  echoes.  She  rushed 
through  the  passage,  down  stairs,  darting  through  moonbeam 
and  shadow,  till  she  reached  the  door  of  the  library.  It  was 
locked ! 

"  Oh,  my  God  !"  she  shrieked,  "  have  mercy  upon  me  I" 
and  fell  fainting  against  the  door. 

The  report  of  the  pistol  and  the  piercing  cries  of  Mrs. 
Lindsey,  roused  the  servants,  who  slept  in  the  house.  They 
came  with  lights,  all  trembling  with  terror,  to  the  spot  where 
she  lay.  The  woman  raised  her  insensible  mistress  and  re- 
moved her  from  the  threshold ;  but  she  dared  go  no  farther. 
She  feared  to  leave  her  fellow-servant,  who  was  fortunately  a 
man,  and,  though  filled  with  dread,  he  had  courage  enough  to 


262  RENAJ   OB,  THE   SNOWBIRD. 

force  open  the  door,  which  being  locked  inside,  resisted  their 
efforts.  The  sight  which  met  his  eyes  was  indeed  appalling ! 
Prostrate  on  the  floor,  with  the  moon  shining  full  upon  his 
face,  weltering  in  his  blood,  lay  the  majestic  form  of  the 
Senator.  His  features  were  calm  and  still  as  marble;  the 
blood  oozed  from  his  heart,  where  the  instantaneous  death- 
wound  had  been  made. 

It  is  not  necessary  to  describe  minutely,  the  particulars  of 
this  awful  night.  Neighbours  gathered  in,  the  physician  was 
summoned,  who  called  back  the  vanished  senses  of  Mrs.  Lind- 
eey,  but  he  had  no  Promethean  touch  that  could  kindle  the 
extinguished  flame  of  life  in  the  cold  bosom  of  the  statesman. 
That  flame  was  quenched  in  blood. 

Bellevue  was  surrounded  by  a  kind  of  inapproachable  atmo- 
sphere, in  consequence  of  the  indomitable  pride  of  its  master  j 
so  that  few  dared  to  attempt  the  task  of  administering  consola- 
tion to  the  wretched  widow.  Hannah,  the  active,  considerate 
and  judicious  Hannah,  assumed  a  responsibility  which  could 
not  be  given  at  such  a  moment.  She  urged  the  immediate 
departure  of  her  husband  for  Sherwood,  despatched  the  letter 
to  Aunt  Debby,  whose  maiden  name  she  knew ;  and  watched 
by  Mrs.  Lindsey,  with  a  tenderness,  one  would  hardly  have 
thought  consistent  with  her  strong  and  energetic  nature. 

Mrs.  Lindsey,  who,  during  the  remainder  of  the  night,  had 
fallen  from  one  fainting  fit  to  another,  at  last  sunk  into  a  deep 
slumber.  But  while  the  ascending  day  was  excluded  from  her 
darkened  chamber,  and  stilly  steps  glided  through  the  passage, 
there  was  one  who  sat  by  her,  a  fellow-mourner,  who  had  come 
to  minister  to  her  like  a  sister,  unknown  to  her,  but  not  to  him, 
who  lay  in  shrouded  majesty  in  the  adjoining  apartment.  When 
Mrs.  Lindsey  lifted  her  heavy  lids,  she  saw  in  the  dim  twilight 
that  surrounded  her,  a  stranger,  with  pale  face,  and  large  black 
and  melancholy  eyes,  bending  over  her. 

"  I  am  a  friend,"  said  Aunt  Debby  for  it  was  she,  who, 


RENA  J   OR,   THE  6NOWBIR1 

like  a  sister  of  charity,  had  come  to  the  bed-side  of  the 
mourner;  "  let  me  stay  with  you.  I  have  suffered,  and  ca& 
feel  for  you." 

"  Suffered  1"  repeated  Mrs.  Lindsey,  clasping  her  pale  hands, 
and  raising  them  feebly  above  her  head  j  "  Merciful  Father  1 
who  ever  suffered  like  me  ?" 

"  We  are  all  born  to  suffer,"  said  Aunt  Debby,  in  a  low, 
bad  voice,  "  we  pass  through  a  furnace  of  fire  on  our  way  to 
the  kingdom  of  Heaven.  Remember,  my  sister,  it  is  the  hand 
of  God  that  is  laid  upon  you.  Resist,  and  it  will  crush  you 
like  iron.  Submit,  and  it  will  be  like  down  upon  your  heart." 

"  But  such  a  blow !"  cried  the  mourner,  "  Oh,  my  God, 
such  a  blow !  Anything,  everything  but  this  I  could  have 
borne.  But  for  this,  there  is  no  balm  on  earth,  or  in  Heaven. 
No  hope,  no  mercy — none." 

"  The  angel  of  Providence  is  disguised,"  said  the  comforter, 
"  but  it  is  an  angel  still.  We  are  weak  and  blind  and  erring. 
There  is  nothing  left  us  but  submission.  We  may  struggle 
with  our  destiny,  but  we  must  be  brought  to  submission  at 
last.  God  is  omnipotent." 

All  the  while  she  was  speaking,  Aunt  Debby  bathed  the 
brow  of  the  sufferer  with  balmy  waters,  and  moistened  her  dry 
and  feverish  hands.  Soothed  by  these  gentle  cares,  she  again 
sunk  into  slumber,  for  she  was  under  the  influence  of  a  pow- 
erful anodyne. 

"  And  now,"  thought  Aunt  Debby,  "  I  may  leave  her  for 
a  few  moments,  and  look  for  the  last  time  on  that  face,  before 
Death  has  stamped  upon  it  the  signet  of  decay." 

She  stole  noiselessly  from  the  room,  and  entered  that  which 
contained  the  lifeless  body  of  the  suicide.  Without  speaking, 
she  motioned  the  watchers  to  leave  her  alone.  With  a  cold 
hand,  she  turned  back  the  white  drapery,  and  gazed  long  and 
steadfastly  on  that  marble  brow,  once  the  throne  of  pride,  now 

placid  and  calm,  as  if  no  warring  passion  had  ever  disturbed 
51 


264  REN  A;  OB,  THE  SNOWBIRD. 

its  deep  repose.  Never  in  life  had  the  matchless  beauty  of  his 
classic  features  been  so  fully  revealed,  as  in  the  immobility  of 
death.  He  might  have  been  mistaken  for  one  of  those  perfect 
monuments  of  Grecian  art,  carved  by  the  hand  of  the  statuary, 
were  it  not  for  the  black  and  shining  hair  that  shaded  his  tem- 
ples and  brows,  and  the  dark  lashes  that  swept  mournfully 
down  his  colourless  cheeks.  And  that  glorious  form  was 
nothing  but  clay ;  it  must  be  consigned  to  the  grave,  the  grave 
his  own  impious  hands  had  dug.  Aunt  Debby  groaned  as  this 
agonizing  thought  absorbed  every  other,  and  taking  his  letter 
from  her  bosom,  she  again  read  it,  as  the  last  legacy  of  the 
dead. 

"  You  prophesied  truly,"  said  the  letter,  "  that  we  should 
never  meet  again  on  this  side  the  grave.  When  these  lines 
meet  your  eye,  cold  in  death  will  be  the  heart  whose  falsehood 
has  darkened  your  existence  !  In  this  solemn  hour,  when  I 
am  winding  up  all  earthly  accounts,  I  cannot  deceive  you — 
and  believe  the  words  of  a  dying  man  when  I  say,  that  the 
short  era  of  my  life  gladdened  by  your  love  was  the  purest, 
the  happiest,  and  best.  The  serpent  ambition  had  not  then 
coiled  itself  in  the  Eden  of  my  heart  I  I  thought  you  had 
become  my  deadly  enemy,  and  hardened  myself  in  the  con- 
viction that  your  nature  was  cold  and  impassible  to  suffering. 
You  have  undeceived  me.  I  feel  all  the  injuries  I  have 
inflicted.  I  feel  the  curse  of  your  unmerited  forgiveness! 
Receive  the  only  expiation  you  ask, — my  consent  to  the  union 
for  which  you  supplicated.  Since  I  parted  from  you,  I  have 
learned  a  bitter  lesson  of  the  ingratitude  of  that  world  I  have 
80  blindly  worshipped  !  Let  my  son,  if  he  will,  seek  happi- 
ness in  the  vale — I  have  found  the  mountain  top  bleak  and 
bare! 

"  I  have  one  confession  to  make — not  to  my  wife — lest  I 
plant  another  thorn  in  her  already  bleeding  bosom, — not  to 
ay  son;  for  I  would  not  that  he  should  abhor  my  memory — 


RENAJ   OB,   THE   SNOWBIRD.  265 

but  to  you,  who  know  me  as  I  am — a  perjured,  guilty,  and 
betraying  man !  There  is  one  crime,  hidden  in  darkness, 
which  the  world  knows  not — which  the  victim  bound  herself 
by  an  oath  never  to  reveal !  An  oath  she  preserved  inviolate 
in  sorrow  and  in  death.  I  would  not  have  left  her  in  want 
and  destitution,  but  I  never  learned  the  place  of  her  retreat, 
till  she  appeared  before  me,  like  an  avenging  spirit,  in  the 
person  of  her  daughter — the  young  charity  girl,  who  has  often 
shared  your  bounty  and  proved  herself  so  unworthy  of  your 
care.  To  prevent  the  possibility  of  an  attachment  for  her  on 
the  part  of  my  son,  I  treated  her  with  cruelty  and  harshness, 
drove  her  from  my  house,  where  my  wife  had  received  her, 
and  exposed  her  to  the  temptations  of  poverty  and  neglect. 
On  my  head  rests  the  damning  sin  of  her  youth !  To  my  son 
I  have  confided  the  trust  of  setting  apart  a  portion  of  my  pro- 
perty for  her  yearly  support,  as  an  indemnification  for  her 
cruel  exile  from  my  home.  To  you  I  confide  the  secret  of  her 
birth.  In  this  moment,  when  the  sins  of  my  life  seem  to  rise 
up  incarnate  and  stare  me  in  the  face,  those  against  her  wear 
a  black  and  demon  aspect !  Save  her,  if  possible,  from  a  second 
transgression.  Find  her,  if  possible,  another  and  kinder  home. 
One  more  charge,  thou  much  wronged  and  much  enduring 
woman,  and  I  have  done.  You  will  comfort  and  sustain  my 
feeble,  sinking  wife.  Let  her  lean  in  the  hour  of  her  bereave- 
ment on  your  stronger  mind  and  firmer  heart.  You  will  cherish 
her  for  my  sake.  I  have  chilled  her  by  coldness,  bruised  her 
by  harshness — and  yet  she  loves  me  still.  Oh !  woman,  wo- 
man !  great  and  marvellous  is  thy  love !  Ill-requited,  wronged 
and  suffering  woman !  surely  there  must  be  a  heaven  for  thee, 
if  not  for  transgressing  man ! 

"And  now,  Deborah — true  and  noble-hearted  love  of  my 
yonth — farewell !  You  will  not  forget  me — you  will  not  curse 
tn»  I  If  I  curse  myself  by  my  life's  last  fatal  act,  I,  who  have 
dr  »d  the  penalty,  will  still  defy  the  doom !" 


266  RENAJ   OB,   THE   SNOWBIRD, 

Aunt  Debby  perused  that  letter,  a  second  time,  by  Herbert 
Liudsey's  cold,  unbreathing  form,  then  kneeling  down,  the 
fountain  of  the  deep  of  her  heart  was  broken  up.  Burying 
her  face  in  the  folds  of  spotless  linen  that  mantled  him,  she 
wept  tears,  which,  had  they  been  drops  of  blood,  could  hardly 
have  wrung  her  heart  with  greater  agony. 

"Great  and  long-suffering  is  the  Lord,"  she  murmured, 
"  we  dare  not  limit  His  mercy.  But  in  justice — as  in  mercy 
— His  holy  will  be  done  !" 

For  one  moment,  she  laid  her  hand  on  his  icy  forehead, 
then  slowly  drawing  over  it  the  folds  of  the  winding-sheet, 
with  lingering  footsteps  crossed  the  threshold,  and  resumed 
her  station  by  the  widow's  couch. 

The  letter,  addressed  to  Sherwood,  though  yet  unsealed  by 
him,  may  perhaps  excite  more  interest  in  the  reader,  read  in 
connexion  with  the  one  just  unfolded.  It  was  as  follows : — 

"  My  son — A  few  hours  ago,  I  was  building  great  palaces 
for  you  and  for  me,  believing  they  were  founded  upon  a  rock ; 
but  their  base  was  sand,  and  the  winds  and  waves  have  swept 
away  the  stately  dome  of  my  pride.  I  bow  with  the  falling 
pillars,  and  make  myself  a  grave  among  the  ruins.  I  have 
chosen  my  destiny — mourn  not  for  it.  For  yourself — let 
your  own  heart  guide  you  in  your  choice  of  life.  If  you 
believe  there  is  any  happiness  to  be  found,  seek  it,  but  not  in 
the  high  places  of  the  earth.  Let  my  name  be  a  Pharos, 
warning  you  of  the  shoals  of  ambition.  I  do  believe,  and 
take  it  as  my  dying  record,  that  if  earth  can  give  happiness, 
it  is  in  the  possession  of  such  love  as  you  have  won.  Take  it, 
keep  it,  bind  it  on  your  heart  as  a  gem  more  precious  than  all 
the  fake  honours  and  lying  vanities  of  the  world.  I  tell  thee, 
Sherwood — the  heart  of  woman  is  a  sacred  thing.  Trample 
on  everything  else  if  you  will,  but  spare  the  heart  of  woman. 
But  why  do  I  speak  thus  ?  I  know  you  will.  I  remember 
when  you  opposed  your  filial  bosom  as  a  shield  for  the  mo- 


RENAJ   OR,   THE   SNOWBIRD.  267 

ther,  who  was  sinking  beneath  the  whirlwind  of  my  stormy 
passions.  Sherwood,  be  still  her  shield.  To  your  filial  ten- 
derness I  commit  her.  You  will  be  faithful  to  the  trust  which 
/have  abused. 

"  The  poor  girl,  whom  you  so  nobly  defended  from  my  per- 
secution, will  receive  an  annual  portion  of  my  property  for  her 
support,  just  what  your  own  liberality  may  prompt.  This  act 
of  justice  will,  I  know,  never  be  forgotten  by  you. 

"  Sherwood,  my  son — my  only  son — my  noble,  noble  boy ! 
the  strongest,  deepest  feeling  of  my  heart  is  paternal  love  I 
Your  image  rises  before  me — I  see  it  in  the  yellow  moon- 
light. You  come  and  twine  yourself  round  me  closer  and 
closer  still — my  arm  grows  weak  in  your  grasp.  My  spirit 
faints !  Oh  1  let  me  go,  my  son — I  must — I  will  be  free ! 

"  It  is  enough !  I  have  conquered  the  last  weakness  of  na- 
ture !  Again  I  feel  my  strength !  Proudly  have  I  lived, 
victoriously  will  I  die !  I  dare  not  bless  you !  It  would  be 
mockery — but  remember,  the  last  word  I  penned,  the  last  sigh 
I  breathed,  was  for  you  I" 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

"  And  now,  before  the  holy  man, 

They  stood  in  all  their  youthful  pride, 
And  spoke  those  words,  and  vowed  those  vows 
Which  bind  the  husband  to  his  bride."  DOAMI. 

Ashes  to  ashes — dust  to  dust.  It  was  even  so.  Herbert 
Lindsey  was  laid  in  the  same  burying-ground  where,  seven- 
teen years  before,  a  poor  dweller  of  the  alinshouse  found  the 
six-foot  bed  of  earth  which  the  poorest  children  of  Adam  claim 
as  their  last  inheritance. 

It  was  all  over !  Silence  and  thick  gloom  overshadowed 
the  household.  Sherwood  sat  alone  in  his  father's  library, 
that  place  of  dread  and  awful  memories;  yet  still  he  sought 
it,  because  it  was  the  scene  of  that  thrilling  tragedy,  the  spot 
where  the  letter  was  penned — that  last  sad  legacy  of  an  err- 
ing parent's  love.  He  sat  in  the  same  chair  where  his  father 
had  sat,  and  gazed  on  a  dark-red  stain  ingrained  in  the  carpet, 
with  dry  and  burning  eyes.  The  colours  seemed  to  deejfk, 
glow,  and  glare  upon  his  sight — to  waver  like  flame,  and  cor- 
ruscate  like  fiery  sparks.  Covering  his  face,  he  pressed  it 
upon  the  table  to  shut  out  the  awful  phenomenon.  Could  he 
only  weep — only  shed  one  tear !  but  not  one  had  softened  his 
arid  grief  from  the  moment  he  had  received  the  terrible 
tidings.  With  dry  eyes  he  had  knelt  by  the  bed-side  of  his 
mother ;  with  dry  eyes  he  had  stood  at  the  head  of  his  father's 
grave,  and  heard  the  clods  rattle  on  his  coffin;  with  dry  eyes 

(268) 


RENAJ   OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD.  269 

he  leaned  upon  the  spot  where  his  father's  last  earthly  aspira- 
tions had  been  breathed  for  him. 

He  heard  no  door  open — no  footsteps  advance ;  but  he  felt 
a  soft  hand  on  hia  shoulder — a  low  voice  in  his  ear,  whisper 
sadly,  tremulously,  "  Sherwood !"  It  was  Rena ;  and,  as 
he  opened  his  arms  and  drew  her  to  his  heart,  and  felt  her 
tears  raining  on  his  cheeks,  his  own  pent-up  agony  found  vent, 
and  he  wept — wept  upon  her  bosom,  like  a  child,  bitter  but 
relieving  tears. 

Her  aunt  had  sent  for  her,  believing  that  as  their  love  was 
now  sanctioned  by  the  highest  earthly  authority,  it  was  as 
much  her  office  to  pour  balm  into  his  wounded  heart  as  if 
her  vows  had  been  breathed  at  the  altar.  She  came  to  per- 
form woman's  holiest  mission  on  earth ;  and  gently,  sweetly, 
sacredly  did  she  fulfil  her  task — and  they  both  felt  that  there 
is  no  love  like  that  which  is  sanctified  by  sorrow,  and  associ- 
ated with  the  memories  of  the  dead. 

And  now  that  every  obstacle  is  removed  which  impeded  the 
union  of  the  son  of  the  statesman  and  the  daughter  of  the 
farmer,  we  feel  that  the  history  we  have  written  must  draw  to 
a  close.  We  are  sorry  for  it,  for  we  have  followed  with  deep 
interest  the  development  of  their  characters.  We  are  sorry, 
too,  to  part  with  Aunt  Debby,  who  has  been  gradually 
resuming  her  original  brightness,  till  she  haa  become  an  angel 
of  consolation,  binding  up  the  broken  heart  and  pouring  oil 
and  balm  into  its  welling  wounds. 

But  we  have  not  quite  finished.  There  are  some  characters 
in  whose  destiny  we  trust  the  reader  is  not  entirely  uninte- 
rested. The  beautiful  charity  girl  1  we  hope  she  may  yet  bo 
forgiven  for  the  errors  and  crime,  that  sullied  the  morning  of 
her  youth. 

Aunt  Debby  was  faithful  to  the  trust  reposed  in  her  by 
him  who  knew  so  well  the  steadfastness  and  truth  on  which 


270  RENAJ   OR,   THE  SNOWBIRD. 

he  relied.  As  soon  as  Mrs.  Lindsey  rose  from  the  hod  of 
languishment  on  which  she  was  prostrated  (for  she  did  yield 
to  the  hand  that  smote,  and  the  iron  grasp  of  despair  that 
would  have  crushed  was  loosened) — as  soon  as  Aunt  Debby 
felt  that  she  could  leave  her  with  her  son  and  llcna,  who  had 
wound  herself  closely  and  endearingly  round  her  heart,  and 
from  whom  she  refused  to  be  separated,  she  returned  to  Sunny 
Dell  and  sent  for  the  long-banished  Stella,  whose  faults  were 
now  remembered  only  to  be  forgiven. 

The  hapless  life  she  had  led  with  Mrs.  Brown,  the  monotony 
of  her  daily  tasks,  the  close  confinement  she  endured,  had 
wilted  the  roses  of  her  cheeks  and  dimmed  the  lustre  of  her 
starry  eyes.  The  excessive  fairness  and  transparency  of  her 
skin,  the  redundance  of  her  golden  locks,  indicated  a  corres- 
ponding delicacy  of  constitution,  and  a  predisposition  to  that 
disease  which  is  the  relentless  scourge  of  the  northern  clime. 
Aunt  Debby  noticed  with  apprehension  the  dry  cough,  that 
Mrs.  Brown  had  selfishly  disregarded.  She  saw,  too,  that 
though  in  the  morning  she  was  of  waxen  paleness,  in  the 
evening  a  glow,  brighter  than  the  petals  of  the  rose,  coloured 
the  alabaster  of  her  cheek.  Stella,  who  since  the  hour  of  her 
detection  had  looked  upon  herself  as  a  disgraced  and  aban- 
doned outcast,  felt  a  sullen  disregard  of  life,  which  rendered 
her  careless  of  her  growing  weakness.  She  was  roused  from 
her  indifference  by  the  vague  hope  excited  by  Mr.  Lindsey's 
interrogations ;  but  that  hope  was  dispelled  by  her  visit  to  the 
almshouse,  where  she  could  learn  nothing  of  her  mother's 
past  history.  Now  the  unexpected  kindness  of  Aunt  Debby, 
whose  trust  she  had  BO  shamefully  abused,  and  the  legacy  of 
Mr.  Lindsey,  of  which  Sherwood  had  immediately  informed 
her,  wakened  the  first  real  feelings  of  gratitude  she  had  ever 
experienced.  She  was  brought  once  more  within  the  sphere 
of  social  bhssings ;  and  after  believing  herself  for  ever  excluded 


RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD.  271 

from  them,  by  her  own  sin  and  folly  (for  the  story  of  her 
transgression  had  followed  her),  she  knew  how  to  appreciate 
their  value.  But  it  was  too  late.  Stella's  days  were  num- 
bered. In  vain  Aunt  Debby  called  in  the  best  medical  aid, 
and  faithfully  attended  to  the  prescribed  remedies.  Consump- 
tion had  hung  its  hectic  rose  upon  her  cheek,  the  signet  seal 
of  death.  And  now  Aunt  Debby,  instead  of  striving  with 
the  doom  which  no  human  hand  could  avert,  endeavoured  to 
prepare  her  for  the  life  that  is  evermore.  She  felt  that  she 
had  been  brought  very  near  the  unseen  world  by  the  late 
startling  event,  and  that  her  views  were  clearer  and  deeper 
than  they  had  ever  been  before ;  and  with  earnest  and  solemn 
zeal  she  brought  home  the  divine  truths  of  religion  to  the  now 
enlightened  conscience  and  repentant  heart  of  the  dying  girl. 
Though  Rena  ministered  like  a  gentle,  loving  sister,  and 
Sherwood  like  a  true-hearted  brother,  it  was  to  Aunt  Debby 
she  clung  with  an  affection  and  gratitude  that  grew  deeper  and 
stronger  as  life  waned  away.  It  was  Tier  hand  that  received 
the  last  fainf  pressure  of  hers — it  was  to  her  face  her  last 
fading  glance  was  turned. 

Unfortunate  Stella !  beautiful,  misguided  child,  of  a  beau- 
tiful, misguided  mother  ! — may  the  remembrance  of  thy  errors 
be  lost  in  pity  for  thy  early  doom.  More  blest  in  death  than 
in  life,  may  thy  example  be  a  warning  to  those  who  are 
tempted  to  forsake  the  guide  of  their  youth,  and  tread  the 
dark  and  downward  path  of  sin  and  shame ! 


"  There  is  a  time  to  weep,"  saith  the  wise  man,  "  and  a 
time  to  laugh ;  a  time  to  mourn,  and  a  time  to  dance." 

If  it  was  not  a  time  to  laugh  and  dance,  it  was  one  to  smile 
»nd  hope,  when  the  handsome  new  house  of  Colonel  Fay  was 


272  RENA;  OR,  THE  SNOWBIRD. 

adorned  and  illuminated  for  the  marriage  festival  of  his  daugh- 
ter. There  was  a  large  and  gay  assembly,  for  all  loved  the 
sweet  Snowbird  of  her  native  valley,  and  gathered  round  her 
to  congratulate  her  on  her  brilliant  prospects. 

It  was  Doctor  Clifford,  the  beloved  and  revered,  who  pro- 
nounced over  her  the  nuptial  benediction,  with  that  voice  of 
music  and  look  of  prayer,  which  gave  consecration  to  any  act 
— how  much  more  to  the  solemn  rite  of  marriage !  When 
Rena  heard  those  deep,  melodious  accents  address  her  as  the 
wedded  wife  of  Sherwood  Lindsey — when  she  turned  from  the 
dark  eyes  that  were  beaming  upon  her  unutterable  love,  to  the 
tearful  but  happy  glance  of  her  father — her  heart  literally 
ached  with  the  fullness  of  her  gratitude  and  joy.  Henry,  too, 
her  dear,  gentle  brother,  he  too  was  bending  upon  her  his 
beautiful  but  pensive  eyes.  The  sad  fate  of  Stella,  whom  he 
had  once  so  passionately  loved,  had  cast  a  shadow  over  hia 
youth ;  but  there  was  a  sweet  girl  near  him,  in  the  meridian 
of  her  teens,  whose  smiles  played  upon  the  shadow,  and  Rena 
hoped  that  ere  long  it  would  melt  away  in  their  brightness. 

There  was  one  friend  whose  face  was  missing  in  that  bridal 
group.  It  was  Aunt  Debby.  She  longed  to  be  present  at 
the  nuptials-  of  the  child  of  her  adoption,  but  there  was  a 
lonely  mourner  at  Bellevue,  who  needed  the  consolation  of 
her  presence. 

"  They  are  happy" — thought  she — "  they  will  not  miss 
Aunt  Debby  from  that  gay,  bridal  throng  !  Life  is  all  before 
them,  beautiful  with  hope  and  love, — blooming  with  flowers 
and  spanned  by  rainbows.  There  are  the  sunbeams — here 
the  clouds!  He  told  me  'to  cherish  Tier  for  his  sake/ 
and  I  have  tried  to  be  faithful  to  the  solemn  charge — I  will 
be  faithful  to  the  end.  No,  no — Sherwood  and  Rena  are 
happy  in  themselves — and  long,  long  may  they  be  so  !  The 
blessing  of  Almighty  God  rest  upon  them !  Ah  !  little  did  I 


RENA;   OR,   THE   SNOWBIRD.  273 

think  that  /  should  ever  invoke  a  blessing  on  the  son  of 
Herbert  Lindsey  I" 

Aunt  Debby  bowed  her  head  in  the  humility  of  a  contrite 
spirit,  and  a  tear  glittered  on  her  lap.  Well  might  Herbert 
Lindsey  say — "  Oh !  woman,  great  and  marvellous  is  thj 
love  I" 


THE    END. 


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Fair  Play 1  50 

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Fallen  Pride, .. I  50 

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Haunted  Homestead, 1  50 


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Wife's  Victory, 1  50 

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the  Belle  Creole, 1  50 

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to  "Linda," 1  50 

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Love  after  Marriage, 1  50 

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Family  Pride.     By  author  of  •'  Pique,"  "Family  Secrets,"  etc 1  50 

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The  Morrisons.     By  Mrs.  Margaret   HoMiier, 150 

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The  Rich  Husband.     By  author  of  "  George  Geith," 1  50 

Harem  Life  in  Egypt  and  Constantinople.     By  Emmeline  Lott, 1  50 

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Woodburn  Grange.     A  Novel.     By  William  Howitt, 1  60 

Country  Quarters.     By  the  Countess  of  Blessington, 1  50 

Out  of  the  Depths.     The  Story  of  a  "Woman's  Life," 1  50 

The  Coquette;  or,  the  Life  and  Letters  of  Eliza  Whnrton. 1  50 

The  Pride  of  Life.     A  Story  of  the  Heart.     By  Lndy  J;.ne  Scott, 1  60 

The  Lost  Beauty.     By  a  Noted  Lady  of  the  Spanish  Court ..  1  60 

Saratoga.     An  Indian  Tale  of  Frontier  Life.  A  true  Story  of  1787,'..  1  50 

Married  at  Last.     A  Love  S lory.     By  Annie  Thoma.B, 1  60 

Tlie  Quaker  Soldier.  A  Revolutionary  Romance.  B.v  Judge  Jones,....  1  60 

The  Man  of  the  World.     An  Autobiography.     By  William  North,...  1  60 

The  Queen's  Favorite;   or,  The  Price  of  a  Crown.     A  Love  Story,...  1  50 

Self  Love;  or,  The  Afternoon  of  Single  nnd  Married  Life, 1 

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High  Life  in  Washington.    A  Life  Picture.     By  Mrs.  N.  P.  Lasselle,  1 

The  Beautiful  Widow;  or,  Lodore.     B.v  Mrs.  Percy  B.  Shelley, j 

Love  and  Money.     By  J.  B.  Jones,  author  of  the  "Rival  Belles,"...  1 

The  Matchmaker.    A  Story  of  High   Life.     By  Beatrice  Reynolds,..  1 

The  Brother's  Secret ;  or,  the  Count  De  Mara.     By  William  Godwin,  1 
The  Lost  Love.    By  Mrs.  Oliphant.  author  of  "  Margaret  Mnitland,"  1 

The  Roman  Traitor.     By  Henry  William  Herbert.    A  Roman   Story,  1  6 

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T.  B.  PETERSON  &  BROTHERS'  PUBLICATIONS.    3 
WORKS  BY  THE  VERY  BEST  AUTHORS. 

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The  Dead  Secret.    By  Wilkie  Collins,  author  of  "  The  Crossed  Path,"  1  50 

Memoirs  of  Vidocq,  the  French  Detective.    His  Life  and  Adventure.-,  1  50 

The  Crossed  Path ;  or  Basil.     By  Wilkie  Collins, 1  50 

Indiana.     A  Love  Story.     By  George  Sand,  author  of  "  Consuelo,"  1  50 

The  Belle  of  Washington.  With  her  Portrait.  By  Mrs.  N.  P.  Lasselle,  1  50 

The  Bohemians  of  London.     By  Edward  M.  Whitty 1  50 

The  Rival  Belles;  or,  Life  in  Washington.     By  J.  B.  Jones, 1  50 

The  Devoted  Bride.     A  Story  of  the  Heart.     By  St.  George  Tucker,  1  50 

Love  and  Duty.    By  Mrs.  Hubback,  author  of  "  May  and  December,"  1  50 

Wild  Sports  and  Adventures  in  Africa.     By  Major  W.  C.  Harris,  1  60 

Courtship  and  Matrimony.     By  Robert  Morris.     With  a  Portrait,...  1  50 

The  Jealous  Husband.     By  Annette  Marie  Maillard, 1  60 

The  Refugee.      By  Herman  Melville,  author  of  "Oraoo,"  "  Typee,"  1  50 

The  Life,  Writings,  Lectures,  and  Marriages  of  Fanny  Fern, 1  50 

The  Life  and  Lectures  of  Lola  Monte/.,  .with  her  portrait,  on  steel,...  1  50 

Wild  Southern  Scenes.     By  author  of  "  Wild  Western  Scene?," 1  50 

Currer  Lyle;  or,  the  Autobiography  of  an  Actress.  By  Louise  Reeder.  1  50 

Coal,  Coal  Oil,  and  all  other  Minerals  in  the  Earth.     By  Eli  Bowen,  1  50 

The  Cabin  and  Parlor.     By  J.  Thornton  Randolph.     Illustrated, 1  50 

Jealousy.     By  Goorgo  Sand,  author  of  "  Consuelo,"  "  Indiann,"  etc.  1  50 

The  Little  Beauty.     A  Love  Story.     By  Mrs.  Grey 1  50 

The  Adopted  Heir.     A  Love  Story.     By  Miss  Pardoe, 1  50 

Secession,  Coercion,  and  Civil  War.     By  J.  B.  June?, 1  60 

The  Count  of  Monte  Cristo.     By  Alexander  Dumas.     Illustrated,...  1  50 

Camilla;  or,  the  Fato  of  a  Coquette.     By  Alexander  Dmuus, 1  50 

Six  Nights  with  the  Washingtoniaus.     By  T.  S.  Arthur, 1  50 

Lizzie  Glenn ;  or,  the  Trials  of  a  Seamstress.     By  T.  S.  Arthur 1  50 

Lady  Maud  ;  or,  the  Wonder  of  Kingswood  Chase.    By  Pierce  Egan,  1  50 

Wilfred  Moutressor  ;  or,  High  Life  in  New  York.     Illustrated, 1  50 

The  Old  Stone  Mansion.  By  C.  J.Peterson,  author  "Kate  Aylesfonl,"  1  50 

Kate  Aylesford.  By  Chas.  J.  Peterson,  author  "  Old  Stone  Mansion,".  1  50 

Lorrimer  Littlegood,  by  author  "  Hary  Coverdale's  Courtship," 1  50 

The  Red  Court  Farm.  By  Mrs.  Henry  Wood,  author  of  "East  Lynne,"  1  50 

Mildred  Arkell.  By  Mrs.  Henry  Wood,  author  of  "  Red  Court  Farm,"  1  50 

The  E-irl's  Secret.     A  Love  Story.     By  Miss  Pardoe, 1  50 

The  Adopted  Heir.  By  Miss  Pardoe,  author  of  "The  Earl's  Secret,"  1  50 

Lord  Montague's  Page.     By  G.  P.  R.  James, 1  50 

The  Cavalier.  By  G.  P.  R.James,  author  of  "Lord  Montagu's  Page,"  1  50 

Cousin  Harry.  By  Mrs.  Grey,  author  of  "  The  Gambler's  Wife,"  etc.  1  50 

The  Conscript.     A  Tale  of  War.     By  Alexander  Dumas,  1  50 

The  Tower  of  London.     By  W.  Harrison  Ainsworth.    Illustrated,...  1  50 

Shoulder  Straps.     By  Henry  Morford,  author  of  "Days  of  Shoddy,"  1  50 

Days  of  Shoddy.     By  Henry  Morford,  author  of  "Shoulder  Straps,"  1  50 

Tho  Coward.     By  Henry  Morford,  author  of  "  Days  of  Shoddy,"...  1  50 

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Martin,  the  Foundling.     By  Eugene  Sue.     Full  of  Illustrations, 1  50 

Ten  Thousand  a  Year.     By  Samuel  C.  Warren.     With  Illustrations,  1  50 

Washington  and  His  Generals.     By  George  Lippard 1  50 

The  Quaker  City;  or,  the  Monks  of  Monk  Hall.     By  George  Lippard,  1  50 

Blanche  of  Brandy  wine.     By  George  Lippard, 1  50 

Paul  Ardenheim ;  the  Monk  of  Wissahickon.     By  George  Lippard..  1  50 

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4    T,  B.  PETERSON  &  BROTHERS'  PUBLICATIONS. 


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CoL  Thorpe's  Scenes  in  Arkansaw.     With  16  Illustrations, 1  75 

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High  Life  in  New  York,  by  Jonathan   Slick.     With  Illustrations,....  1  75 

Judge  Haliburton's  Yankee  Stories.      Illustrated, 1  75 

Harry  Coverdale's  Courtship  and  Marriage.     Illustrated, 1  75 

Piney  Wood's  Tavern;  or,  Sam   Slick  in  Texas.     Elustrated, 1  75 

Sam  Slick,  the  Clockmaker.  By  Judge  Haliburton.  Illustrated,...  1  75 
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Modern  Chivalry.     By  Judge  Brecken ridge.     Two  vols.,  t-ach 1  75 

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Count  of  Monte  Cristo, 1  50 

The  Iron  Mask, 1  00 

Louise  La  Valliere, 1  00 

Adventures  of  a  Marquis, 1  00 

Diana  of  Meridor, 1  00 

The  Three  Guardsmen, 75 

Twenty  Years  After, 75 

Bragelonne, 75 

The  Conscript.   A  Tale  of  War,  1  50 


Memoirs  of  a  Physician, 1  00 

Queen's  Necklace, 1  00 

Six  Years  Later, 1  00 

Countess  of  Charney, 1  00 

Andree  de  Taverney, 1  00 

The  Chevalier, 1  00 

Forty-five  Guardsmen, 75 

The  Iron  Hand, 75 

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Edmond  Dantes, 75 

Felina  de  Chambure, 75 

The  Horrors  of  Paris, 75 

The  Fallen  Angel 75 

Sketches  in  France, 75 

Isabel  of  Bavaria, 75 


Man  with  Five  Wives, 75 

Twin  Lieutenants, 75 

Annette,  Lady  of  the  Pearls,....  60 

Mohicans  of  Paris, 50 

The  Marriage  Verdict, 60 

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T.  B.  PETERSON  &  BROTHERS'  PUBLICATIONS.  5 


CHARLES     DICKENS'    WORKS. 

W  QBE  AT    REDUCTION    IN    THEIB    PBICEB.  -C» 


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Onr  Mutual  Friend,  ......  Cloth,  $1.50 

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1.50 
1.50 


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Christmas  Stories, Cloth,  3.00 


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3.00 
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.. 
66.00 


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6    T.  B.  PETERSON  &  BROTHERS'  PUBLICATIONS. 


CHARLES  DICKENS'   WORKS. 

ILLUSTRATED  OCTAVO  EDITION. 

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American  Notes  and 

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Our  Mutual  Friend, Cloth,  $2.00 

Pickwick  Papers, Cloth,     2.00 

Nicholas  Nickleby, Cloth,     2.00 

Great  Expectations, Cloth,     2.00 

Lamplighter's  Story,.. ..Cloth,     2.00 

Oliver  Twist, Cloth,     2.00 

Bleak  House, Cloth,     2.00 

Little  Dorrit, Cloth,     2.00 

Doinbey  and  Son, Cloth,     2.00 

Sketches  by  "Boz," Cloth,     2.00 

Price  of  a  set,  in  Black  cloth,  in  eighteen  volumes, $36.00 

"  "  Full  sheep,  Library  style, 45.00 

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"  "  Half  calf,  antique, 70.00 

"  "  Half  calf,  full  gilt  backs,  etc., 70.00 

"NEW  NATIONAL  EDITION"  OF  DICKENS'  WOKKS.  . 

This  is  the  cheapest  complete  edition  of  the  works  of  Charles  Dickens, 
"  B'iz,"  published  in  the  world,  being  contained  in  seven  large  octavo  vol- 
umes, with  a  portrait  of  Charles  Dickens,  and  other  illustrations,  the  whole 
making  nearly  six  t/tousand  very  large  double  columned  payes,  in  large,  clear 
type,  and  handsomely  printed  on  fine  white  paper,  and  bound  in  the 
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Price  of  a  set,  in  Black  cloth,  in  seven  volumes, $20.00 

"  "         Full  sheep,  Library  style, 25.00 

"  "         Half  calf,  antique, 30.00 

"  "        Half  calf,  full  gilt  back,  etc., "30.00 

CHEAP   SALMON  PAPEB  COVES  EDITION. 

'Each  book  be-'ng  complete  in  one  large  octavo  volume. 


Pinkwick  Papers 35 

Nicholas  Nickleby, 35 

Dombey  and  Son, 35 

David  Copperfield 25 

Martin  Chuzzlewit, 35 

Old  Curiosity  Shop 25 

Oliver  Twist 25 

American  Notes, 25 

Great  Expectations, 25 

Hird  Times, 25 

A  Tale  of  Two  Cities 25 

Somebody's  Luggage, 25 

Message  from  the  Sea, 25 

Barnaby  Rudge 25 


Christmas  Stories, 25 

The  Haunted  House, 25 

Uncommercial  Traveler, 25 

A  House  to  Let, 25 

Perils  of  English  Prisoners, 25 

Wreck  of  the  Golden  Mary, 25 

Tom  Tiddler'?  Ground, 25 

Our  Mutual  Friend, 35 

Bleak  House, 35 

Little  Dorrit, 35 

Joseph   Grimnldi 50 

The  Pic-Nic  Papers,- 50 

No  Thoroughfare 10 

Hunted  Down, 25 

The  Holly-Tree  Inn 25 


Sketches  by  "Boz," 25 

Mrs.  Lirriper's  Lodgings  and  Mrs.  Lirriper's  Legacy, 25 

Mugby  Junction  and  Dr.  Marigold's  Prescriptions, 25 


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T.  B.  PETERSON  &  BROTHERS'  PULICATIONS.    7 


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Con  Cregan 76 

Davenport  Dunn, 76 


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Horace  Templeton, 75  |  Kate  O'Donogbue, 75 

MADAME  GEORGE  SAND'S  WORKS. 


Consuelo, 75 

Countess  of  Rudolstadt 75 

First  and  True  Love, 75 

The  Corsair, 50 

Jealousy,  paper, 1  50 

Do.  cloth, 1  75 


Fanchon,  the  Cricket,  pnper,...  1  00 

Do.  do.       cloth,...  1  50 

Indiana,  a  Love  Story,  paper,.  1  50 

Do.  do.       cloth,...  1  75 

Consuelo  and  Rudolstadt,  both 

in  one  volume,  cloth, 2  00 


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Hide  and  Seek, 75 

After  Dark, .^....  75 

The  Dead  Secret.     Svo..^L..  75 

Above  in  cloth  at  $1.0(1  oaoh. 

The  Queen's  Revenge, 75 


Mad  Monkton, 50 

Sights  a-Foot 50 

The  Stolen  Mask, 25 

The  Yellow  Mask 25 

Sister  Rose, 25 


MISS  PARDOE'S  WORKS. 


Rival  Beauties, 75 

Romance  of  the  Harem, 75 


Confessions  of  a  PrettyWoman,       75 

The  Wife's  Trials, 75 

The  Jealous  Wife, 50 

The  five  above  books  are  also  bound  in  one  volume,  cloth,  for  $4.00. 

The  Adopted  Heir.     One  volume,  paper,  $1.50;  or  in  cloth, $1   75 

The  Earl's  Secret.    One  volume,  paper,  $1.50;  or  in  cloth,  1  75 

MRS.  HENRY  WOOD'S  BOOKS. 


Red  Court  Farm, 1  50 

Elster's  Folly 1  50 

St.  Martin's  Eve, 1  50 

Mildred  Arkell 1  50 

Shadow  of  Ashlydyat, 1  50 


Lord  Oakburn's  Daughters ;  or, 
the  Earl's  Heirs, 1  50 

Squire  Trevlyn's  Heir ;  or, 
Trevlyn  Hold 1  50 

The  Castle's  Heir;  or,  Lady 
Adelaide's  Oath, 1  50 


Oswald  Cray, 1  50 

Verner's  Pride, 1  50 

Above  are  each  in  paper  cover,  or  each  one  in  cloth,  for  $1.75  each. 
The  Mystery, 75  |  A  Life's  Secret, 50 

Above  are  each  in  paper  cover,  or  each  one  in  cloth,  for  $1.00  each. 
The  Channings, 1  00  |  Aurora  Floyd, 74 

Above  are  each  in  paper  cover,  or  each  one  in  cloth,  for  $1.50  each. 


Orville  College, 50 

The  Runaway  Match, 50 

The  Lost  Will 50 

The  Haunted  Tower 50 

The  Lost  Bank  Note, 75 


Better  for  Worse, 75 

Foggy  Night  at  Offord, 25 

The  Lawyer's  Secret, -...  25 

William  Allair 25 

A  Light  and  a  Dark  Christmas,  25 


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8    T.  B.  PETERSON  &  BROTHERS'  PUBLICATIONS. 


GEORGE  W.  M.  REYNOLDS'  WORKS. 

Mary  Price, 1  00 

Eustace  Quentin, ]  00 

Joseph  Wilmot, 1  00 

Banker's  Daughter,.. ..  1  00 

Kenneth, 1  80 

The  Rye-House  Plot, 1  00 

The  Necromancer, 1  00 

The  above  are  each  in  paper  cover,  or  in  cloth,  price  $1.75  each. 

The i  OperaDancer, 75    The  Soldier's  Wife, 75 


Mysteries  of  Court  of  London,.. 
Rose  Foster.  Sequel  to  it,  
Caroline  of  Brunswick,  

1  00 
1  50 
1  00 

Venecia  Trelawney,  

1  00 

1  00 

Count  Christoval,  

1  00 

1  00 

Child  of  Waterloo, 75 

Robert  Bruce, 75 

Discarded  Queen, 75 

The  Gipsy  Chief, 75 

Mary  Stuart,  Queen  of  Scots,...  75 
Wallace,  the  Hero  of  Scotland,  1  00 

Isabella  Vincent, 75 

Vivian  Bertram, 75 

Countess  of  Lascelles, 75 

Loves  of  the  Harem, 75 

Ellen  Percy 75 

Agnes  Evelyn, 75 


May  Middleton, 75 

Duke  of  March mont, 75 

Massacre  of  Glencoe, 75 

Queen  Joanna;  Court  Naples,  75 

Pickwick  Abroad, 75 

Parricide, 75 

The  Ruined  Gamester,.... 60 

Ciprina;  or,   the  Secrets  of  a 

Picture  Gallery, 50 

Life  in  Paris, 50 

50 


Countess  and  the  Page,. 

Edgar  Montrose, 50 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS.    BY  SIR^ALTER  SCOTT. 

CHEAPEST  EDITION  IN   THE'  WOBLD. 


Ivanhoe, 20 

Rob  Roy, 20 

Guy  Mannering, 20 

The  Antiquary 20 

Old  Mortality  20 


The  Betrothed, 20 

Peveril  of  the  Peak, 20 

Quentin  Dunvard, 20 

Red  Gauntlet, 20 

The  Talisman, 20 


Woodstock, 20 

Highland  Widow,  etc., 20 

The  Fair  Maid  of  Perth, 20 

Anne  of  Geierstein, 20 

Count  Robert  of  Paris, 20 

The  Black  Dwarf  and  Legend 

of  Montrose, 20 

Castle  Dangerous,  and  Bur- 

geon's  Daughter, 20 


Haart  of  Mid  Lothian, 20 

Bride  of  Lammermoor, 20 

Waverley, 20 

St.  Ronan's  Well, 20 

Konilworth, 20 

The  Pirate, 20 

The  Monastery, 20 

The  Abbot, 20 

The  Fortunes  of  Nigel, 20 

Above  edition  is  the  cheapest  in  the  world,  and  is  complete  in  twenty-six 
Volumes,  price  Twenty  cents  each,  or  Five  Dollars  for  the  complete  set. 

A  finer  edition  is  also  published  of  each  of  the  above,  complete  in  twen 
ty-six  volumes,  price  Fifty  cents  each,  or  Ten  Dollars  for  the  complete  set. 

Moredun.    ATaleofl210, 60    Scott's  Poetical  Works, 500 

Tales. of  a  Grandfather, 25    Life  of  Scott,  cloth, 250 

"NEW  NATIONAL  EDITION"  OF  "  WAVERLEY  NOVELS." 
This  edition  of  the  Waverley  Novels  is  contained  \nfive  large  octavo  vol- 
umes, with  a  portrait  of  Sir  Walter  Scott,  making  four  thousand  very  large 
double  columned  pages,  in  good  type,  and  handsomely  printed  on  the  finest 
of  white  paper,  and  bound  in  the  strongest  and  most  substantial  manner. 

Price  of  a  set,  in  Black  cloth,  in  five  volumes, $15  00 

«         "         Full  sheep,  Library  style 1750 

"          "          Half  calf,  antique,  or  Half  calf,  gilt, 2500 

The  Complete  Prose  and  Poetical  Works  of  Sir  Walter  Scott,  are  al*o 

published  in  ten  volumes,  bound  in  half  calf,  for $60.00 

»» 

£g*  Books   sent,  postage  paid,  on  receipt  of  the  Retail  Price,  by 
I.  B.  Peterson  &   Brothers,  Philadelphia,  Pa. 


T.  B.  PETERSON  &  BROTHERS'  PUBLICATIONS.    9 


HUMOROUS  AMERICAN  WORKS. 

Beautifully  Illustrated  by  Felix  0.  C.  Darley. 


Major  Jones'  Courtship, 75 

Major  Jones' Travels, 75 

Simon  Suggs'  Adventures  and 

Travels, 75 

Major  Jones'  Chronicles  of 

Pineville, 75 

Polly  Peablossem's  Wedding,..  75 

Mysteries  of  the  Backwoods,...  75 

Widow  Rugby's  Husband, 75 

Big  Bear  of  Arkansas 75 

Western  Scenes;  or,  Life  on 

the  Prairie, 75 

Streaks  of  Squatter  Life, 75 

Pickings  from  the  Picayune,...  75 
Stray  Subjects,  Arrested  and 

Bound  Over, 75 

Louisiana  Swamp  Doctor, 75 

Charcoal  Sketches,... 75 

Misfortunes  of  Peter  Faber,....  75 

Yankee  among  the  Mermaids,..  75 

New  Orleans  Sketch  Book, 75 


Drama  in  Pokerville, 75 

The  Quorndon  Hounds, 75 

My  Shooting  Box, 75 

Warwick  Woodlands, 76 

The  Deer  Stalkers, 75 

Peter  Ploddy 75 

Adventures  of  Captain  Farrago,  75 
Major  O'Regan's  Adventures,..  75 
Sol.  Smith's  Theatrical  Appren- 
ticeship,   75 

Sol.  Smith's  Theatrical  Jour- 
ney-Work, 75 

The  Quarter  Race  in  Kentucky,  75 

Aunt  Patty's  Scrap  Bag, 75 

Percival    Mayberry's    Adven- 
tures and  Travels, 75 

Sam  Slick's  Yankee  Yarns  and 

Yankee  Letters, 75 

Adventures  of  Fudge  Fumble,.  75 

American  Joe  Miller, 60 

Following  the  Drum, 50 


DISRAELI'S  WORKS. 


Henrietta  Temple, 50 

Vivian  Grey, 75 

Venetia, 60 


Young  Duke, 50 

Miriam  Alroy, 60 

Contarina  Fleming, 50 


FRANK  FAIRLEQH'S  WORKS. 

Frank  Fairlegh, 75  I  Harry  Racket  Scapegrace, 75 

Lewis  Arundel, 75  I  Torn  Racquet, 75 

Finer  editions  of  above  are  also  issued  in  cloth,  at  $1.75  each. 
Harry  Coverdale's    Courtship,  1  50  |  Lorrimer  Littlegood, 1  50 

The  above  are  each  in  paper  cover,  or  in  cloth,  price  $1.75  each. 

C.  J.  PETERSON'S  WORKS. 

The  Old  Stone  Mansion, 1  50  |  Kate  Aylesford, 1  50 

The  above  are  each  in  paper  cover,  or  in  cloth,  price  $1.75  each. 

Cruising  in  the  Last  War, 75  I  Grace  Dudley;  or,  Arnold  at 

Valley  Farm, 25  |      Saratoga, 50 

JAMES  A.  MAITLAND'S  WORKS. 


Diary  of  an  Old  Doctor,....-....  1  50 

Sartnroe 1  50 

The  Three  Cousins, 1  50 


The  Old  Patroon, 1  50 

The  Watchman, 1  50 

The  Wanderer, 1  50 

The  Lawyer's  Story, 1  50 

The  above  are  each  in  paper  cover,  or  in  cloth,  price  $1.75  each. 

WILLIAM  H.  MAXWELL'S  WORKS. 

Wild  Sports  of  the  West, 75  I  Brian  O'Lynn, 75 

Stories  of  Waterloo, 75  I 


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10  T.  B.  PETERSON  &  BROTHERS'  PUBLICATIONS. 


WILLIAM  HARRISON 

Life  of  Jack  Sheppard, 50 

Life  of  Guy  Fawkes, 75 

Above  in  1  vol.,  cloth,  $1.75. 

Court  of  the  Stuarts, 75 

Windsor  Castle, 75 

The  Star  Chamber, 75 

Old  St.  Paul's,- 75 

Courtof  Queen  Anne, 50 

Life  of  Dick  Turpin, 50 

Life  of  Davy  Crockett, 50 


AINS WORTH'S  WORKS. 

Tower  of  London, 1  50 

Miser's  Daughter, 1  00 

Abuve  in  cloth  $1.75  each. 

Life  of  Grace  O'Malley, 50 

Life  of  Henry  Thomas, 25 

Desperadoes  of  the  NewWorld,  25 

Life  of  Ninon  De  L'Enclos,....  25 

Life  of  Arthur  Spring, 25 

Life  of  Mrs.  Whipple  and  Jes- 

see  Straug, 25 


G.  P.  R.  JAMES'S  BEST  BOOKS. 

Lord  Montague's  Page, 1  60  |  The  Cavalier, 1  50 

The  above  are  each  in  paper  cover,  or  in  cloth,  price  $1.75  each. 

The  Man  in  Black, 75  I  Arrah  Neil, 75 

Mary  of  Burgundy, 75  I  Eva  St.  Clair, 50 

DOW'S  PATENT  SERMONS. 

Dow's    Patent     Sermons,    1st  Dow's     Patent     Sermons,    3d 


Series,  $1.00 ;  cloth, 1  50 

•Dow's     Patent     Sermons,    2d 
Series,  $1.00;  cloth, 1  50 


Series,  $1.00 ;  cloth, 1  50 

Dow's    Patent    Sermons,    4th 
Series,  $1.00;   cloth, 1  50 


SAMUEL  C.  WARREN'S  BEST  BOOKS. 


Ten  Thousand  a  Year,... paper,  1 
Do.  do.  cloth,  2 


Diary  of  a  Medical  Student,...      75 


ft.  K.  PHILANDER  DOESTICKS'  WORKS. 

Doesticks'  Letters, 1  50  I  The  Elephant  Club, 1  50 

Plu-Ri-Bus-Tah, 1  50  I  Witches  of  New  York, 1  50 

The  above  are  each  in  paper  cover,  or  in  cloth,  price  $1.75  each. 

GREEN'S  WORKS  ON  GAMBLING. 

Gambling  Exposed, 1  50  I  The  Reformed  Gambler, 1  50 

The  Gambler's  Life, 1  50  I  Secret  Band  of  Brothers, 1  50 

Above  are  each  in  paper  cover,  or  each  one  in  cloth,  for  $1.75  each. 

MISS  ELLEN  PICKERING'S  WORKS. 


The  Grumbler, 75 

Marrying  for  Money, 75 

Poor  Cousin, 50 

Kate  Walsingham, 50 

Orphan  Niece, 50 


Who  Shall  be  Heir? 38 

The  Squire, 38 

Ellen  Wareham, 38 

Nan  Darrel, 38 


CAPTAIN  MARRYATT'S  WORKS. 


Jacob  Faithful, 50 

Japhet  in  Search  of  a  Father,..  50 

Phantom  Ship 50 

Midshipman  Easy 50 

Pacha  of  Many  Tales 50 

Frank  Mildmay,  Naval  Officer,  50 

Suarleyow, 50 


Newton  Forster, 50 

King's  Own, 50 

Pirate  and  Three  Cutters, 50 

Peter  Simple, 50 

Percival  Eeene, 60 

Poor  Jack, 50 

Sea  King, 50 


Books  sent,  postage  paid,  on  receipt  of  the  Retail  Price,  by 
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T.  B.  PETERSON  &  BROTHERS'  PUBLICATIONS.  11 
EUGENE   SUE'S   GREAT  WORKS. 


Wandering  Jew, 1  50 

Mysteries  of  Paris, 1  50 

Martin,  the  Foundling 1  50 

Above  in  cloth  at  $2.00  each. 


First  Lore, 60 

Woman's  Love, iO 

Female  Bluebeard 50 

Man-of-War's-Mnn, 50 


Life  and  Adventures  of  Raoul  De  Surville, 25 

MRS.  GREY'S  WORKS. 

Cousin  Harry, 1  50  |  The  Little  Beauty, 1  50 

The  above  are  each  in  paper  cover,  or  in  cloth,  price  $1.75  each. 


Gipsy's  Daughter 50 

Old  Dower  House, < 60 

Belle  of  the  Family, v.  50 

Duke  and  Cousin, 50 

The  Little  Wife,. 50 

Lena  Cameron, 50 

Sybil  Lennard, 50 

Manoeuvring  Mother 50 

Baronet's  Daughters, 50 


Young  Prima  Donna, 60 

Hyacinthe, 25 

Alice  Seymour, 25 

Mary  Seahara, 75 

Passion  and  Principle, 75 

The  Flirt, 75 

Good  Society, 75 

Lion-Hearted, 75 


J.  F.  SMITH'S  WORKS. 


The     Usurer's     Victim ; 
Thomas  Balscombo, 


75 


Adelaide  Waldegrave;  or,  the 
Trials  of  a  Governess, 


75 


REVOLUTIONARY  TALES. 


The  Brigand, 50 

Ralph  Runnion, 50 

Seven  Brothers  of  Wyoming,..  50 

The  Rebel  Bride, 50 

The  Flying  Artillerist, 50 

Wau-uan-gee, 50 


Old  Put;  or,  Days  of  1776, 50 

Legends  of  Mexico, 60 

Grace  Dudley, 60 

The  Guerilla  Chief, 75 

The  Quaker  Soldier,  paper, 1  50 

do.  do.         clutb, 1  75 


EMERSON  BENNETT'S  WORKS. 


The  Border  Rover, 1  50 

Clara  Moreland, 1  50 

Viola;   or  Adventures   in   the 

Far  South-West, I  50 


Rride  of  the  Wilderness, 1  50 

Ellen  Norbury,.... I  50 

The  Forged  Will, 1  50 

Kute  Clarendon, 1  50 


The  above  are  each  in  paper  cover,  or  in  cloth,  price  $1.75  each. 
The  Heiress  of.Bellefonte,  and            I  Pioneer's    Daughter  and   the 
Walde-Warren, 75  I      Unknown  Countess, 75 

T.  S.  ARTHUR'S  HOUSEHOLD  NOVELS. 

The  Lost  Bride, 50 


The  Two  Brides,. 

Love  in  a  Cottage, 

Love  in  High  Life,... 
Year  after  Marriage,. , 
The  Lady  at  Home,., 


The  Divorced  Wife, 50 

Pride  and  Prudence, 50 

Agnes;  or.  the  Possessed, 50 

Lucy  Sandford 50 

The  Banker's  Wife 50 

The  Two  Merchants, 50 

Trial  and  Triumph, 50 

The  Iron  Rule, 50 

Insubordination;  or,  the  Shoe- 
Mary  Moreton, 50        maker's  Daughters, 60 

Six  Nights  with  the  Washingtonians.     With  nine  original  Illustra- 
tions.    By  Cruikshank.     One  volume,  cloth  $1.75  :  or  in  paper,. ..$1.50 

Lizzy  Glenn;  or,  the  Trials  of  a  Seamstress.   Cloth  $1.75  ;  or  paper,  1.50 

Books  sent,  postage  paid,  on  receipt  of  the  Betail  Price,  by 
T.  B.  Peterson  &  Brothers,  Philadelphia,  Pa. 


50 
51) 
50 
50 
50 

Cecelia  Howard, 50 

Orphan  Children 50 

Debtor's  Daughter, 50 


12  T.  B.  PETERSON  &  BROTHERS'  PUBLICATIONS. 


EXCITING 

Adventures  of  Ben  Brace, 75 

Jack  Adams,  tbe  Mutineer, —  75 

Jack  Ariel's  Adventures 73 

Petrel ;  or,  Life  on  the  Ocean,.  76 

Life  of  Paul  Periwinkle, 75 

Life  of  Tom  Bowling, 75 

Percy  Effingham, 75 

Cruising  in  the  Last  War, 75 

Red  King, 50 

The  Corsair SO 

The  Doomed  Ship, 50 

The  Three  Pirates, 60 

The  Flying  Dutchman, 50 

The  Flying  Yankee, 60 

The  Yankee  Middy, 60 

The  Gold  Seekers, 50 

The  King's  Cruisers 60 

Life  of  Alexander  Tardy, 60 

Red  Wing, 5D 

Yankee  Jack, 50 

Yankees  in  Japan, 50 

Morgan,  the  Buccaneer, 60 

Jack  Junk, 60 

Davis,  the  Pirate, 50 

Valdez,  the  Pirate, 50 


SEA  TALES. 

Gallant  Tom, 50 

Harry  Helm, 60 

Harry  Tempest, 50 

Rebel  and  Rover, 50 

Man-of-War's-Moo, 50 

Dark  Shades  of  City  Life, 25 

The  Rats  of  the  Seine, 25 

Charles  Ransford, 25 

The  Iron  Cross, 25 

The  River  Pirates, 25 

The  Pirate's  Son, 25 

Jacob  Faithful, 50 

Phantom  Ship, 60 

Midshipman  Easy, 60 

Pacha  of  Many  Tales, 60 

Naval  Omcer 60 

Snarleyow, 60 

Nowton  Forster, „  60 

King's  Own, 60 

Japhet, 50 

Pirate  and  Three  Cutteri, 50 

Peter  Simple, , 50 

Percival  Keene, 50 

Poor  Jack, 50 

Sea  King, 50 


GEORGE  LIPPARD'S  GREAT  BOOKS. 


The  Quaker  City, ]   50 

Paul  Ardenheim, 1  50 

Blanche  of  Brandy  wine, 1  50 

Washington  and  his  Generals; 
or,  Legends  of  the  American 

Revolution, 1  50 

Mysteries  of  Florence, 1  00 

Above  in  cloth  at  $2.00  each. 


The  Empire  City, IB 

Memoirs  of  a  Preacher, 75 

The  Nazarene, 75 

Washington  and  his  Men, 75 

Legends  of  Mexico, 60 

The  Entranced, 25 

The  Robbers, 25 

The  Bank  Director's  Son, 25 


MILITARY  NOVELS.    BY  BEST  AUTHORS. 

With  Illuminated  Military  Covers,  in  five  Colors. 


Charles  O'Malley, 75 

Jack  Hinton,  the  Guardsman,  75 

The  Knight  of  Gwynno, 75 

Harry  Lorrequer, 75 

Tom  Burke  of  Ours, 75 

Arthur  O'Leary, 75 

Con  Cregan, 75 

Kate   O'Donoghue, 75 

Horace  Templeton, %    75 

Davenport  Dunn, 75 

Jack  Adams'  Adventures, 75 

Valentine  Vox 75 

Twin  Lieutenants, 75 

Stories  of  Waterloo, 75 

The  Soldier's  Wife, 75 

Guerilla  Chief, .    75 


The  Three  Guardsmen, 

Twenty  Years  After, 

Bragelonne,  Son  of  Athos, 

Forty-five  Guardsmen, 

Tom  Bowling's  Adventures,... 

Life  of  Robert  Bruce, 

The  Gipsy  Chief, 

Massacre  of  Glencoe, 

Life  of  Guy  Fawkes, 

Child  of  Waterloo, 

Adventures  of  Ben  Brace, 

Life  of  Jack  Ariel, 

Wallace,  the  Hero  of  Scotland, 

Following  the  Drum, 

The  Conscript,  a  Tale  of  War. 
By  Alexander  Dumas, 


75 
75 
75 
75 
75 
75 
75 
75 
75 
75 
75 
75 
1  00 
50 

1  50 


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GU3TAVE  AIMARD'S  WORKS. 


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The  Freebooters, 50 

The  Prairie  Flower, 75 

The  Indian  Scout 75 

The  Trail  Hunter, 75 

The  Indian  Chief, 75 

The  Bed  Track, 75 


Trapper's  Daughter, ,  76 

The  Tiger  Slayer, 76 

The  Oold  Seekers, 75 

The  Rebel  Chief, 75 

The  Smuggler  Chief, 75 

The  Border  Rifles, 75 

Pirates  of  the  Prairies, 76 


(it'riii, m  without  n  Master, 40 

Italian  without  a  Master. 40 


LANGUAGES  WITHOUT  A  MASTER. 

French  without  a  Master, 40 

Spanish  without  a  Master, 40 

Latin  without  a  Master, 40 

The  above  five  works  on  tho  French,  German,  Spanish,  Latin,  and  Italian 
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any  one  without  a  Teacher,  with  the  aid  of  tl.i.-  book,  by  A.  H.  Motiteith, 
Esq.,  is  also  published  in  liner  style,  in  one  volume,  bound,  price,  $1.75. 

HARRY  COCKTON'S  WORKS. 

Sylvester  Sound, 75    The  Sisters, 75 


Valentino  Vox,  in  paper, 75 

do.        finer  edition,  cloth,  2  00 


The  Steward, 75 

Percy  EniDghain, 75 


WAR  NOVELS.    BY  HENRY  MORFORD. 

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The  Coward, 1  50  I      to ry  of  the  late  War, 1  50 

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LIVES  OF  HIGHWAYMEN. 


Life  of  John  A.  Murrel, 60 

Life  of  Joseph  T.  Hare, 50 

Life  of  Col.  Monroe  Edwards,.  50 

Life  of  Jack  Sheppard, 50 

Life  of  Jack  Rann, 50 

Life  of  Dick  Turpin, 50 

Life  of  Helen  Jewett 50 

Desperadoes  of  the  New  World,  60 

Mysteries  of  Ne\y  Orleans, 50 

The  Robber's  Wife, 60 

Obi;  or,  Three  Fingered  Jack,  60 

Kit  Clayton 50 

Life  of  Tom  Waters, 50 

Nat  Blake 50 

Bill  Horton, 50 

Galloping  Gus, 50 

Life  &  Trial  of  Antoine  Probst,  50 

Ned  Hastings, 50 

Eveleen  Wilson, 50 

Diary  of  a  Pawnbroker, 50 

Silver  and  Pewter, 50 

Sweeney  Todd 50 

Life  of  Grace  0  'Malley, 50 


Life  of  Davy  Crockett,. 

Life  of  Sybil  Grey 

Life  of  Jonathan  Wila, 
Life  of  Henry  Thomas, 


..  50 

..  60 

..  25 

v.  25 

Life  of  Arthur  Spring 25 

Life  of  Jack  Ketch, 25 

Life  of  Ninon  De  L'Enclos, 25 

Lives  of  the  Felons, 25 

Life  of  Mrs-Wbipple,.  25 

Life  of  Biddy  WoodLuii,.  25 

Life  of  Mother  Brownrigg, 25 

Dick  Parker,  the  Pirate, 25 

Life  of  Mary  Batemaj), 25 

Life  of  Cnpiain  Blood 25 

Capt.  Blood  and  the  Beagles,..  25 
Sixteen-Stringed  Jack's  Fight 

for  Life, 25 

Highwayman's  Avenger 25 

Life  of  Rnoul  De  Surville 25 

Life  of  Rody  the  Rover 

Life  of  Galloping  Diek, 

Life  of  Guy  Fawkes, 

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25 

25 


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WORKS  AT  75  CENTS.    BY  BEST  AUTHORS. 

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Webster  and  Hayne's  Speeches  in  Reply  to  Colonel  Foote, 75 

The  Brigand;  or,  the  Demon  of  the  North.     By  Victor  Hugo, 75 

Koanoke;  or,  Where  is  Utopia?     By  C.  H.  Wiley.     Illustrated, 76 


Banditti  of  the  Prairie, 75 

Tom  Racquet, 75 

Red  Indians  of  Newfoundland,  75 

Salathiel,  by  Croly, 75 

Corinne;  or,  Italy, 75 

Ned  Musgrave 75 

Aristocracy, 75 

Inquisition  in  Spain, 75 

Elsie's  Married  Life, 75 

Leyton  Hall.  By  Mark  Lemon,  75 


Flirtations  in  America 75 

The  Coquette, 75 

Thackeray's  Irish  Sketch  Book.  76 

Whitehall, 75 

The  Beautiful  Nun, 75 

Mysteries  of  Three  Cities, 75 

Qenevra.     By  Miss  Fairfleld,..  75 

New  Hope  ;  or,  the  Rescue, 76 

Crock  of  Gold.    By  Tupper,...  75 

Twins  and  Heart.    By  Tupper,  75 


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Leah  ;  or  the  Forsaken, 50 

The  Greatest  Plague  of  Life,..  50 

Clifford  and  the  Actress, 50 

Two  Lovers, 50 

Ryan's  Mysteries  of  Marriage,  50 

The  Orphans  and  Caleb  Field,.  50 

Moreton  Hall, 50 

Bell  Brandon, 50 

Sybil  Grey, 50 

Female  Life  in  New  York, 50 

Agnes  Grey, 50 

Diary  of  a  Physician, 50 

The  Emigrant  Squire, 50 

The  Monk,  by  Lewis 50 

The  Beautiful  French  Girl,...  50 

Father  Clement,  paper, 50 

do.  do.  cloth, 75 

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The  Deformed 25 

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Jack  Downing's  Letters, 25 

The  Mysteries  of  a  Convent,...  25 

Rose  Warrington, 25 

The  Iron  Cross, 25 

Charles  Raneford, 25 


50 
50 

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Ella  Stratford, 50 

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cast Orphan, 50 

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eloth  gilt,  75  cents,  or  paper,       60 

The  Romish  Confessional 60 

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Violet, 50 

Alieford,  a  Family  History,..  .       60 
General  Scott's  $5  Portrait,...  1  00 

Henry  Clay's  $5  Portrait, 1  00 

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BY  BEST  AUTHORS. 

The  Mysteries  of  Bedlam, 25 

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Ghost  Stories.     Illustrated,....       25 
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Gliddon's  Ancient  Egypt 

Philip  in  Search  of  a  Wife, 


25 
25 
25 
25 
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PETERSONS'  ILLUMINATED  STORIES. 

Each  Book   being  in  an  "ILLUMINATED  COVER,"  in  five  colors,  fall  of 
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Robel  and  Rover, 25 

First  Love 25 

The  Two  Merchants, 25 

A  Year  After  Marriage, 25 

Love  in  tligh  Life,  25 

The  Divorced  Wife, 25 

The  Debtor's  Daughter, 25 

The  Lady  at  Home, 25 

Mary  Moreton 25 

The  Two  Brides,  25 

Dick  Parker, 25 

Jack  Kotch, 25 

Mother  Brownrigg 25 

Galloping  Dick, 25 

Mary  Bat  em  an 25 

Rioul  do  Surville 25 

Life  of  FTirry  Thorn  is, 25 

Mrs.  Wnipple  &  Josse  Straag's 

Adventures,  2-5 

Jonathan  Wild's  Aiventures,..  25 


Ninon  De  L'Enclos'  Life, 25 

The  Iron  Cross, 25 

Biddy  Woodhull  the  Beautiful 

Haymaker, 25 

The  RiverTirates, 25 

Dark  Shades  of  City  Life, 25 

The  Rats  of  the  Seine, 25 

Mysteries  of  Bedlam 25 

Charles  Ransford, 25 

Mysteries  of  a  Convent, 25 

The  Mysterious  Marriage, 25 

Capt.  Blood,  the  Highwayman,  25 

dipt.  Blood  and  the  Beagles,  25 

Highwayman's  Avenger, 25 

Rody  the  Rover's  Adventures,.  25 
Sixteen-Stringed  Jack's  Fight 

for  Life, 25 

Ghost  Stories.  Illustrated,....  25 

Arthur  Spring, 25 

The  Valley  Farm, 25 


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Lardner's  One  Thousand  and  Ten  Things  Worth  Knowing, 60 

Kuowlson's  Complete  Farrier  and  Horse   Doctor, 25 

K'io\vlson's  Complete  Cow  and  Cattle  Doctor, 25 

Tlie  Complete  Kitchen  and   Fruit  Gardener, 25 

The  Complete  Florist  and   Flower   Gardener 25 

Arthur's  Receipts  for  Preserving  Fruits,  etc., 12 

LIVES  OF  GENERALS  AND  OTHER  NOTED  MEN. 

M  >ore's  Life  of  H  >u.  Schuyler    C  ilfax.     By    Rev.  A.  Y.  Moore,  of 

South  Bend.  With  a  Fine  Steel  Portrait.  One  vol.  cloth.  Price..  1  50 
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other  engraving*.  Cl  »th,  $1.00  ;  or  in  paper  cover, 75 

ilustrated  Life,  Speeches,  Martyrdom  and  Funeral  of  President 

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Life  and  Services  of  General  Sheridan.  Cloth,  $1.00  ;  or  in  paper,..  75 
Life,  Battles,  Reports,  and  Public  Services  of  General  George  B. 

McClellan.  Price  in  papir  50  cents,  or  in  cloth 75 

Life  and  Public  SM-VICOS  of  General  George  G.  Meade,  the  Hero  of 

Gattysburg •„  25 

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of  New  Orleans, 25 

Life  of  President  Andrew  Johnson.  Cloth,  $1.00  ;  or  in  paper 75 

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16  T.  B.  PETERSON  &  BROTHERS'  PUBLICATIONS. 
LIEBIG'S  WORKS  ON  CHEMISTRY. 

Agricultural  Chemistry, 25  I  Liebig's  celebrated  Letters  on 

Animal  Chemistry, 261      the  Potato  Disease, 25 

Liebig's    Complete   Works  on  Chemistry,  is  also   issued  in  one  large 

octavo  volume,  bound  in  cloth.  Price  Two  Dollars. 

SIR  E.L.  BULWER'S  NOVELS. 

The  Roue, 50  I  The  Courtier, 25 

The  Oxonians, 50  I  Falkland, 25 

DR.  HOLLICK'S  WORKS. 

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Human  Figure,  with  colored  dissected  plates  of  the  Human  Figure,  1  25 
Dr.  Hollick's  Family  Physician,  a  Pocket  Guide  for  Everybody, 25 

GEORGE  FRANCIS  TRAIN'S  SPEECHES. 

Union  Speeches.  In  2  vols.,  each     25  I  Downfall  of  England, 10 

Speech  to  the  Fenians, 25  I  Slavery  and  Emancipation, 10 

REV.  CHAS.  WADSWORTH'S  SERMONS. 

America's  Mission, 25  I  A  Thanksgiving  Sermon, 15 

Thankfulness  and  Character,..       25  |  Politics  in  Religion, 12 

Henry  Ward  Beecher  on  War  and  Emancipation, 15 

Rev.  William  T.  Brantley's  Union  Sermon, 15 

EXPOSITIONS  .OF  SECRET  ORDERS,  ETC. 


Odd  Fellowship  Exposed, 13 

Sons  of  Malta  Exposed, '    13 

Life  of  Rev.  John  N.  Maffit,...       13 


Dr.  Berg's   Answer   to   Arch- 
bishop Hughes, 13 

Dr.  Berg  on  the  Jesuits, 13 


RIDDELL'S   MODEL   ARCHITECT. 

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Practical  Architect.  Illustrated  with  twenty-two  full  page  Front  Eleva- 
tions, colored,  with  forty -four  Plates  of  Ground  Plans,  including  the  First 
and  Second  Stories,  with  plans  of  the  stories,  full  specifications  of  all  the 
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GOOD  BOOKS  FOR  EVERYBODY. 

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Coins  in  the  World,  with  the  U.  S.  Mint  value  of  each  coin, 1  00 

New  Card  of  Stamp  Duties,  approved  by  the  last  Acts  of  Congress,  15 
Political  Lyrics.  New  Hampshire  and  Nebraska.  Illustrated 12 

CHRISTY  &  WHITE'S  SONG  BOOKS. 


Christy  &  Wood's  Song  Book,.  10 

Melodeon  Song  Book 10 

Plantation  Melodies 10 

Ethiopian  Song  Book, 10 


Serenader's  Song  Book, 10 

Budworth's  Songs, 10 

Christy  and  White's  Complete 
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T.  A.  TROLLOPE'S  WORKS. 

Each  work  is  complete  in  one  large  duodecimo  volume. 
Price  of  each,  $1.75  in  Cloth ;  or,  $1.50  each,  in  Paper  Cover. 

LEONORA   CASALONI;  OR,  THE  MARRIAGE  SECRET. 

"  The  pictures  of  life  in  Italy,  as  drawn  by  Trollope,  are  as  charming 
as  they  are  true.  In  '  Leonora  Casaloni,'  the  description  of  the  basilica 
of  St.  John  of  Latoran,  at  Rome,  of  the  hills  on  the  sea-coast  where 
Leonora  lived,  and  of  the  wild  passes  of  the  Apennines  through  which 
Ccasare  traveled,  are  among  the  most  vivid  things  of  their  kind  in  fiction. 
The  character  of  Gobbo  is  an  original  one,  and  the  poor  fellow  strangely 
enlists  our  sympathies.  The  interest  turns  upon  the  marriage-secret  of  a 
great  Roman  family,  which  is  adroitly  kept  in  mystery  until  the  conclud- 
ing pages.  This  is  a  story  of  striking  merit — produced  in  the  maturity 
of  its  gifted  author's  mind." — R.  Shelton  Mackenzie. 

GEMMA.     A  TALE  OF  LOVE  AND  JEALOUSY. 

"  Mr.  T.  A.  Trollope  gives  us  in  '  Gemma,'  one  of  his  novels  of  Italian 
private  life  of  the  present  day.  The  descriptions  of  the  city  of  Siena — of 
the  country  around — of  Savona,  the  desolate  town  of  Maremma — are  won- 
derfully graphic,  and  bear  witness  to  their  having  been  done  from  the  life 
by  one  who  has  lived  in  the  places  and  loved  them.  The  scene  in  the  great 
church  of  Savona  is  brought  vividly  before  the  reader,  who  will  not  easily 
shake  off  the  impression  it  produces.  We  would  recommend  the  reader  to 
learn  for  himself  the  unravelling  of  the  plot  and  the  final  result.  The 
story  will  well  repay  perusal,  and  the  interest  increases  as  the  story  pro- 
ceeds."— London  Athenaeum. 

BEPPO;  THE  CONSCRIPT. 

"  In  '  Beppo  the  Conscript'  we  are  transported  to  '  the  narrow  strip  of 
territory  shut  in  between  the  Apennines  and  the  Adriatic,  to  the  south  of 
Bologna  and  the  north  of  Ancona,'  where  European  civilization  once  cen- 
tred, Tasso  sung  and  raved,  and  the  Dukes  of  Urbino  flourished.  But 
not  to  revive  their  past  glories  are  we  beguiled  to  the  decayed  old  city 
of  Fano,  and  the  umbrageous  valleys  that  nestle  amid  the  surrounding 
hills;  it  is  the  normal,  primitive,  agricultural  life  and  economy  of  the 
region,  and  the  late  political  and  social  condition  of  the  inhabitants, 
which  this  story  illustrates.  The  means  and  methods  of  rural  toil, — 
the  '  wine,  corn,  and  oil'  of  Scriptural  and  Virgilian  times ;  the  avarice, 
the  pride,  the  love,  the  industry,  and  the  superstition  of  the  Contadhn  of 
the  Roinagna ;  a  household  of  prosperous  rustics,  their  ways  and  traits  ; 
and  the  subtle  and  prevailing  agency  of  priestcraft  in  its  secret  opposi- 
tion to  the  new  and  liberal  Italian  government, — are  all  exhibited  with 
a  quiet  zest  and  a  graphic  fidelity  which  takes  us  into  the  heart  of  the 
people,  and  the  arcana,  as  well  as  the  spectacle  of  daily  life  as  there  latent 
and  manifest.  The  domestic,  peasant,  and  provincial  scenes  and  charac- 
ters are  drawn  with  fresh  and  natural  colors  and  faithful  outlines." — 
Henry  T.  Tuckerman. 

MARIETTA;  OR,  LIFE  IN  TUSCANY. 

"  Mr.  T.  A.  Trollope,  always  a  prime  favorite  of  ours,  has  excelled  him- 
self in  '  Marietta.'  It  is  a  charming  book — charming  not  for  its  exquis- 
itely graphic  and  accurate  pictures  of  Italian  life  in  country  and  city,  but 
still  more  so  for  its  admirable  delineations  of  character." — London  Satur- 
day Press. 

G1ULIO  MALATESTA. 

"  GIULIO  MALATESTA  opens  with  distinctive  glimpses  of  an  old  Italian 
university  town — initiates  us  into  the  prolonged  and  patient  political  con- 
spiracies of  Rouiagua,  and  the  ideal  hopes  of  Gioberti's  disciples.  Its 

(11) 


12  T.  ADOLPHUS  TROLLOPE'S  WORKS. 

hero  is  a  student  at  Pisa,  and  one  of  the  brave  champions  of  Italy  who 
led  the  Tuscan  volunteers  to  patriotic  martyrdom,  in  1848,  at  Curtone. 
Nowhere  have  we  read  so  graceful  and  graphic  a  picture  of  that  noble 
episode  in  the  history  of  Tuscany,  which  redeemed  her  character  and 
proved  the  latent  manliness  of  her  children." — Henry  T.  Tuckerwan. 

DREAM  NUMBERS. 

"  T.  Adolphus  Trollope  patiently  collects  and  philosophically  arranges 
his  material,  and  is  content  to  do  so  without  seeking  any  startling  effects 
or  recondite  significance.  Indeed,  the  chief  obstacle  with  which  such  a 
writer  has  to  contend,  is  the  prevalent  appetite — we  cannot  call  it  tasie— 
for  the  sensational.  He  ignores  the  intense  school — he  describes  what  he 
sees,  knows,  and  feels  ;  and  does  so  in  a  very  direct,  simple,  candid,  and 
therefore  sympathetic  way.  If  the  reader  knows  or  cares  anything  about 
•the  region  or  race  thus  delineated,  he  will  find  a  refreshing,  calm,  and 
grateful  flavor  of  truth  and  sympathy  in  the  unpretending  but  significant 
stories  of  T.  Adolphus  Trollope." — Hound  Table. 

LA  BE  AT  A.    A  TUSCAN  ROMEO  AND  JULIET. 

"  La- Beata  as  completely  takes  those  familiar  with  its  scene  into  the 
life  and  moral  atmosphere  of  Florence,  as  does  'The  Vicar  of  Wakefield' 
into  the  rural  life  of  England  before  the  days  of  railways  and  cheap  jour- 
nalism. The  streets,  the  dwellings,  the  people  and  incidents  are  so  truly 
described,  the  perspective  is  so  correct,  and  the  foreground  so  elaborate, 
that,  with  the  faithful  local  coloring  and  nuive  truth  of  the  characters,  we 
seem,  as  we  read,  to  be  lost  in  a  retrospective  dream, — the  more  so  as" 
there  is  an  utter  absence  of  the  scnsiitioiinl  and  rhetorical  in  the  style, 
which  is  that  of  direct  and  unpretending  narrative." — H.  T.  Tuckerman. 

Price  of  each  above,  $1.75  in  Cloth;  or  $1.50  in  Paper  Cover. 

THE  WOMAN  IN  BLACK. 

A  COMPANION  TO  THE  "WOMAN  IN  WHITE." 

IT  IS  ONE  OF   THE  BEST  NOVELS  EVER  PUBLISHED. 
'  EVERYBODY  IS   READING  AND  RECOMMENDING  IT. 

Read  what  E.  Shelton  Mackfnm:,  Ksq.,  the  Literary  Editor  of  fbrney's  Philadelphia 

Daily  /.Vpss,  tay»  of  it : 

"The  Woman  In  Black  is  so  mnch  out  of  the  ordinary  track  that  we  cau  heart- 
ily recommend  it.  The  title  is  suggestive  of  mystery  and  grief,  and  the  story  is 
that  of  a  sharp,  handsome,  aud  ambitious  woman,  who  has  determined  to  obtain 
a  rich  English  nobleman  for  a  hushaud,  aud  shrinks  at  nothing  to  attain  that 
end.  The  hero,  though  noble  and*  wealthy,  is  himself  a  highly  educated, 
thoughtful  mau,  and  the  greater  the  need,  therefore,  for  the  lady  to  be  keen- 
witted. We  do  not  choose  to  say  how  far  she  succeeds;  enough  that  the  inci- 
dents are  dramatically  worked  up,  with  uuu-ual  power,  and  that  various  phases 
of  Knglish  society,  high  and  low,  are  graphically  sketched,  aud  poetical  justice 
is  finally  meted  out  to  alt.  'The  Woman  in  Black'  shows  great  power,  not  only 
in  drawing  character,  bnt  in  the  difficult  art  of  construction.  We  should  judge 
thfit  it  was  written  by  a  lady.  If  HO,  she  will  soon  be  a  formidable  rival  to  Mrs. 
Henry  Wood  aud  Miss  M.  A.  Braddon. 

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NEW    BOOKS    BY    MRS.   ANN  S.  STEPHENS. 


RUBY  GRAY'S  STRATEGY, 

BY  MRS.  ANN  S.  STEPHENS. 

Price  $1.75  in  Cloth;  or,  $1.50  in  Paper  Cover. 


Fourth  Edition  Now  Ready. 

THE  CURSE  OF  GOLD. 

BY  MRS.  ANN  S.  STEPHENS. 

Price  $1.75  in  Cloth ;  or,  $1.50  in  Paper  Cover. 
Fifth  Edition  Now  Ready. 

MABEL'S  MISTAKE, 

BY  MRS.  ANN  S.  STEPHENS. 

Price  $1.75  in  Cloth ;  or,  $1.50  in  Paper  Cover. 


T.  B.  Peterson  &  Brothers  have  just  issued  a  new  and  uniform  edition 
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ANN  S.  STEPHENS'  COMPLETE  WORKS. 


Ruby  Gray's  Strategy, SI  75 

The  Curse  of  Gold,...' 1  75 

Mabel's  Mistake, 1  75 

Doubly  False, 1  75 


The  Rejected  Wife, $1   75 

Mary  Derwent, 1  75 

The  Gold  Brick, 1  75 

Fashion  and  Famine, 1  75 


The  Soldier's  Orphans 1  75  j  The  Old  Homestead, 1   75 

Silent  Struggles, 1   75  I  The  Heiress, 1  75 

The  Wife's  Secret, 1   75  ' 

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T.  B.  PETERSON  &  BROTHERS, 

No.  306  Chestnut  Street,  Philadelphia,  Pa. 


NEW  B3GKS  BY  MRS.  E.  D.  E,  N.  SOUTHWORTH. 


THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

A  SEQUEL  TO  "THE  CHANGED  BRIDES." 

BY  MRS.  EMMA  D^E.  N.  SOUTHWORTH. 

THE  CHANGED  BRIDES. 

BY  MRS.  EMMA  D.  E.  N.  SOUTHWORTH. 

HOW  HE  WON  HER. 

A  SEQUEL  TO  "FAIR  PLAY." 

BY  MRS.  EMMA  D^N.  SOUTHWORTH. 

F 


IR    PL 

BY  MRS.  EMMA  D.  E.  N.  SOUTHWORTH, 

MRS.  SOTJTHWORTH'S   COMPLETE   WORKS. 


The  Bride's  Fate, $1  75 

The  Changed  Brides, 1  75 

How  He  Won  Her, 1  75 

Fair  Play, 1  75 

The  Prince  of  Darkness, 1   75 

Fallen  Pride, 1  75 

The  Widow's  Son, 1  75 

Bride  ot  Llewellyn, 1  75 

The  Fortune  Seeker, 1  75 

A 11  worth  Abbey, 1  75 

The  Bridal  Eve 1   75 

The  Fatal  Marriage, 1  7-1) 

Love's  Lubor  Won, 1  75 


The  Lost  Heiress $1  76 

The  Two  Sisters, 1  75 

The  Three  BeHuti.c 1  75 

Vivia;  or,  the  Frm't  ot  Power,  1  75 

Lady  ot  the  Is-lu 1  75 

Thn  Gipsy's  Prophecy 1  75 

The  Missing  llridf, 1  76 

Wife's  Victory. 1  75 

The  Mother  iuLiuv, 1  75 

Tlimntcd  Honjtstiad, 1  75 

Retribution 1  75 

India:   Pearl  ot  Pearl  River,..  1  75 

Curse  ot   Clifton 1  75 


Deserted  Wife, 1  75    Discarded  Daughter, 1  75 

Ench  of  the  above  hooks  are  published  in  one  lariro  duodecimo  volume, 
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For  sale  by  all  Bookseller?.     Copies  ot  any  ot  the  above  books  will  b« 
ient  to  any  one,  free  ot  postage,  on  receipt  of  nrice  by  the  Publishers, 

1.  B.  PETERSON  &  BROTHERS, 

No.  306  Chestnut  Street.  Philadelphia,  Pa. 


«r        • 


